






Mr "*" 



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M 

^P*^ 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. 



Copyright No. 
Shel£_j5_L 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT REST 



POEMS 



BY 

Edward Augustus Jhnks 



ILLUSTRATED 



Holland, tr. of I'lutarcl. 



B OSTON 
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS 

I O MILK STREE T 
l8 97 












' 






Copyright 1897 
By Edward A. Jenks 



engraving and printing by 

republican press association 

Concord, n. h. 



4Yf 



teai-]\eav\ snadow-forrns of lorig ago! 

Sweet fner]ds yjt\o loved ir\e — now beyond tqe blue 
You cannot see or near rqe, well I know: 

Yet still I Y\av[d tnese evening flowers to you. 

Rr\d you wqose feet still linger at rqy side, 

'.'.'■ e love refreshes rqe liKe rqorning dew 

An 1 stays tqe sr|a i iWs of life's eventide, 
1 dedicate tnese curfew cnirqes to you. 



Never did Poesy appear 
So full of heaven to me, as when 
I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear 
To the lives of coarsest men. 

Lowell — An Incident in a Railroad Car. 



PREFACE 

TN preparing this volume for the press, the author felt that he 
■*- might almost as well go into an October woods, sweep up the 
crisp leaves that carpet its solemn crypts, and try to replace them 
in living beauty upon the bare arms of the beeches and maples, as 
to undertake to bring these wanderers home again. But certain 
occult influences, singularly in accord with some subterranean cur- 
rent of his own thought, have encouraged him to complete the 
work. After all, he is rather glad to welcome his children to his 
fireside once more. 

At the end are a few notes, referred to by numbers in the body 
of the book. 

E. A. J. 

Concord, New Hampshire. 



I am satisfied if it cause delight; for delight is the chief, if not the 
only, end of poesy : instruction can be admitted but in the second 
place ; for poesy only instructs as it delights. 

Drvden — Def. of Essay on Dram. Poesy. 

To render poetry by the voice and seize it by the ear, exacts an 
almost sacred attention. There must exist between the reader and his 
hearers' the closest bond, without which the electric communication of 
feeling cannot take place. If this cohesion of souls is lacking, the poet 
is like an angel trying to sing the hymns of heaven amid the sneers of 
hell. Balzac — Lost Illusions. 



CONTENTS 



Adown the Flashing Stream 
A Hundred Years Ago . 

A Last Visit 

"A Military Gentleman," by Rembrandt 
Anniversary Poem .... 
A Portrait horn the Sea 
Asleep .... 
A Twisted Thing . 
Blue Eyes 

1 Wight Passaconaway 
Dandelions 

Faces from Wonderland 
Fair Ormond 
For a Birthday Calendar 
From the Piazza 
doing and Coming 
Helene .... 
Her Twelfth Birth-Day . 
How Can You Ever Find Mi- 
ls It Not Strange . 
June Fancies 
Marguerite 
Noman's Land . 
I ) ( it-mini 

Oh! *Twas the Funniest Thim 
On the Road 
( >n the Rocks at York 
Orphean Music 
O the Children . 
Parallels 

Silver Wedding Bells 
Song .... 



141 
119 

128 

30 
101 

76 
189 

'55 
C57 
161 

28 
150 

97 
•49 

54 

18 

i-3 
43 
93 

171 

44 
LM 
'83 

72 

65 

25 

79 

17 

153 

117 

81 

144 



CONTENTS 

Song of the Summer Wind . . . . . .142 

Speed the Going — Welcome the Coming ... 49 

Spirit of Love . . . . . . . . -136 

Spring is Coming ........ 192 

The Boatman . . . . . . . . -57 

Discovery ........ 26 

Gardens of Noddy . . . . . . 115 

Farm-House ........ 123 

Joy-Bells Ring . . . . . . . .185 

Land of Sleep ....... 36 

Life-Stream . . . . . . . 133 

Magi and the Star . ...... 137 

North Wind's Winter Outing . . . . -87 

Old Man's Yesterday 63 

Old Stone Bridge ....... 23 

Princes in the Tower . . . . . . 71 

Reaper . . . . . . . . .165 

Return ......... 41 

River Beautiful . . . . . . . 175 

Road and the River ...... 74 

Spinning-Wheel at Rest . . . . . -194 

Sunset Bridge ....... 147 

Very Biggest Boy . . . . . . .169 

Two Apples . . . . . . . . . hi 

Under the Old Elm 191 

Under the Trees ........ 20 

Where Roses Grow . . . . . . . .126 

Whispers ......... 33 

Who Would Stand Still 37 

Y e Balade of ye Fretfull Lytel Robin .... 90 

Y« Old Stone Wall 178 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait — Frontispiece 

Orphee ......... 16 

The Old Stone Bridge . . . . . . 22, 24. 

"A Military Gentleman," by Rembrandt ... 31 

The Land of Sleep ........ 36 

The Return ......... 40 

June Fancies 

" Where the lilies drink themselves into dreams" . 47 

Speed the Going — Welcome the Coming 

" Beneath the stars" ...... 50 

" Ships in ice-floes jammed" . . . . 51 

The dead old year . . . . . . . 52 

The Presidential Range . . . • . . -55 

The Boatman 

" The glad wild bell " ...... 60 

The Old Man's " Yesterday" 

" As the tall corn parted right and left" ... 62 

The Princes in the Tower ...... 70 

O Gemini .......,., 73 

A Portrait from the Sea ...... 76 

On the Rocks at York 

" Purring in soft content, in sleepy ease" . . 78 

Ocean surf ......... 80 

Silver Wedding Bells 

The wedding ring ....... 84 

The North Wind's Winter Outing 

" You scurry away on mischief bent " .... 86 

The tempest ........ 88 

Fair Ormond . . . . . . . . .100 

" The clustered yellow globes " .... 96 

A live oak ......... 98 

The Tomoka river ...... 99 



i 27 
i 3 o 

139 
143 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Two Apples 

" Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now" . . 1 10 

" Cling to the tree ! Steady" . . . . -113 

A Hundred Years Ago 

The old church ....... 120 

The Farm-House 

" The ghostly mill " ....... 122 

" Where coiled it lies" . . . . . . [ 2 r 

Where Roses Grow 

Wheat and sickle ....... 

Marguerite ....... 

The Magi and the Star ...'.... 

Song of the Summer Wind 

Moonlight ........ 

The Sunset Bridge 

" At last the bridge was finished" .... 146 

For a Birthday Calendar 

The night-blooming cereus . . : . . 149 

Faces from Wonderland . . . . . . -151 

Bright Passaconaway ....... 162 

" Castle on the Rhine" . .... 160 

The Reaper 

" The voiceless village " . . . .166 

The Very Biggest Boy 

" A boy who gives no quarter" . . . . .168 

The pet l?Q 

Is It Not Strange 

Life from death ....... 172 

The River Beautiful . . . . . . . 174 

Y" Old Stone Wall 180 

Noman's Land 

" A beautiful Nowoman's hand" . . . . 182 

Asleep 

" Dear tired Mother Earth has gone to sleep" . . 188 

November scene . . . . . . .189 



THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT EEST. 



POEMS " 




ORPHEAN MUSIC 

fHE legendary Orpheus and his lyre, — 
Who led the wood-nymphs captive at the sound 
Of his clear voice and sentient strings, and bound 
The streams with bands so soft they could not tire, 
Thrilling the sylvan wilds with sweet desire 
To staunch for aye the ever-bleeding wound 
Left by his lost Eurydice, — are found 
Again when soft October's leafy fire 

Burns on the silent mountains, and the woods 
Are bursting with the melody that springs 
From hidden chambers — chauntin°s low and 
deep , 
Fit music for these sacred solitudes. 

Here, breathless, all things listen as he sings, 
And, listening, fall like children into sleep. 



17 



GOING AND COMING 

rOING — the great round Sun, 
Dragging the captive Day 
Over behind the frowning hill, 
Over beyond the bay — 
Dying : 
Coming — the dusky Night, 

Silently stealing in, 
Wrapping himself in the soft, warm couch 
Where the golden-haired Day had been 
Lying. 

Going — the bright, blithe spring : 

Blossoms ! how fast ye fall, 
Shooting out of your starry sky 

Into the darkness all 
Blindly ! 
Coming — the mellow days ; 

Crimson and yellow leaves ; 
Languishing purple and amber fruits 

Kissing the bearded sheaves 
Kindly ! 

Going — our early friends ; 
Voices we loved are dumb ; 



iS 



GOING AND COMING 

Footsteps grow dim in the morning dew ; 
Fainter the echoes come 
Ringing : 
Coming to join our march — 

Shoulder to shoulder pressed — 
Gray-haired veterans strike their tents 
For the far-off purple west, 
Singing ! 

Going — this old, old life ; 

Beautiful world ! farewell ! 
Forest and meadow ! river and hill ! 

Ring ye a loving knell 
O'er us ! 
Coining — a nobler life ; 

Coming — a better land ; 
Coming — the long, long, nightless day ; 

Coining — the grand, grand 
Chorus ! 



T 9 



UNDER THE TREES 

fHE mellow music of this dewy autumn eve 
Tinged with the purple clusters of the bosky vine, 
Falls soothingly upon the ear, as on the heart 
The healing benison of sacramental wine. 

The while light fingers wake the subtle harmonies 
That sleep among the .swaying branches overhead, 

We '11 watch the unseen angels pave the sky with stars, 
O'er which the phantom coursers of night's Queen will 
tread. 

E'en now we hear her wheels behind the breathless hills ; 

And see ! heraldic lights go shooting up the sky : 
She comes ! With queenly grace she guides her foaming 
steeds, 

Dispensing regal gifts, love beaming in her eye. 

A shower of silver coin falls gleaming at our feet, 

Struck from the leafy dies that .swing above our heads ; 

And sweetly tired Nature breathes her evening prayer 
Beneath the filmy sheet the mild Queen-mother spreads. 



THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 1 

lit ENVY you, old Bridge ! 
(!)=>» To stand upon the border 
Land of shadow, rock, and river, 
Where the burnished sun-spears quiver 
Forever and forever, 

And the song to the old warder 
Endeth never — endeth never ! 
Ah ! I envy you, old Bridge ! 

I envy you, old Bridge ! 

Oh ! how the waters sparkle 
As the)' whelm your feet with kisses ! 
E'en the constellation Pisces 
Scarce could blaze with warmer splendor ! 

Then to see the waters darkle 
With a sadness sweet and tender 
As they pass beyond the Bridge ! 

I envy you, old Bridge ! 

You never tire of gazing 
At the fishes, deftly speckled, 
At the ledges, sunshine freckled, 



THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 

Nor of listening to the trebles, 

So sweet and so amazing, 
Of the water on the pebbles. 
Yes ! I envy you, old Bridge. 




-i 



ON THE ROAD 

,:7j[^HEY wondered how the day could be so bright — 
fc <ip Those two disciples — and their hearts so sore : 
They wondered how the birds could sing — how light 
Could ever shine again on sea or shore. 

The way was long — their tear-hung eyes were dim ; 

Their hearts were broken — Faith and Hope had fled ;- 
But as they walked, they thought and talked of Him 

Who yesterday lay .still among the dead. 

The two — oh, wonder ! — were increased to three : 
How oft it happens, when our loving thought 

Has stretched across an intervening sea 

Of time or space, it brings the friend we sought. 

The heart-sore travellers were increased to three : 
Just how it happed those brave hearts never knew ;- 

They knew that they were blind — now they could see, 
While words of comfort fell like falling dew. 

' ' Abide with us ! " " And he went in. ' ' How sweet 
To know that when we open wide the door, 

We shall not wait to hear His coming feet, 
But He will sup with us forevermore. 



THE DISCOVERY 

O* AM not young, nor am I very old ; 

(s=f But Maud is young, and beautiful, and sweet. 

My eyes are gray, but not the kind called cold ; 

Not cold, at least, when gray and brown eyes meet. 
For sometimes, when she lays her soft white hand 

Upon my shoulder, and I clasp her waist, 
The sternest anchorite could not withstand 

Her luscious beauty, nor forbear to taste. 

I am not very old, I said ; — but wait ! 

Behind all this there 's something must be told : 
Perhaps I 'm passing on with steadier gait 

Thau I imagined to the years called " old." 
So to the point : 'T was only yesterday 

That, standing at my window looking west, 
I saw the tired Sun lay himself away 

On pillows fiery as the hangbird's breast : 

I stood and watched him, dreaming all the while 
Of that fair face beset with golden rings, 

And of some far-off, dim, enchanted isle, 
And airy palaces and queens and kings, — 

When suddenly the door flew open wide 
And all the gathering twilight fled away, 

26 



THE DISCOVERY 

For Maud came tripping lightly to my side, 
Like perfumed sunbeams to the fields of May. 

My arm stole round her, and her sweet brown exes 

Raised their long lashes to my bending face, 
When all at once there flashed a bright surprise 

From out those ambushed depths of maiden grace 
" Oh, Love !" she cried, " I see a silver thread — 

A gleam of winter — in your tawny beard ! 
I '11 smother it with molten gold," she said : 

Her head bent low — the silver disappeared. 



DANDELIONS 



ODD in my pocket!' girlie mine? Oh, no — oh, 
no ! — not I ! 
But I can show you where the pretty golden eagles 

lie 
As thick as lighted candles in a summer evening sky. 

"Come! there's my little finger! You must hold on 

snug and tight 
While we go romping down the lane. There ! stop 

just here ! How bright 

They gleam among the soft green grasses ! Deft, and 

front, and right 

"Their yellow laughter greets us, and the .speaking 
disks of gold 

Dook up confidingly — just sweet — not pert, nor over- 
bold : 

The Horn of Plenty shook them over all the waiting- 
wold. 

" But some bright morning, when you hear the early 
robins call, 

There '11 be no gleaming gold — instead, a spindle, hol- 
low, tall, 

And perched upon its breezy top a fuzzy silver ball — 



DANDELIONS 

" Each ball a silver quiver full of silver javelins, 

Just large enough for fairy queens to hurl at fairy sins — 

Or fairies use, in fastening their hats or scarfs, as pins ! 

" A morning breath will scatter them, and on the wind's 

soft wings 
The golden eagles fly away, and all the silver things : 
So bright illusions always fade — like promises of kings." 



29 



"A MILITARY GENTLEMAN," BY REM- 
BRANDT 

^^S^.N iron face, remorseless, grim, and cold ; 
(sj{{i Aii eye as piercing as the gleaming sword 
His mighty arm hath swung when battle rolled 

Its thunderous tide along ; a voice that roared 
Fierce songs and battle-cries in hot pursuit 

Of flying foes ; a mouth as strange to love 
And all sweet offices, as heavenly fruit 

To lips of angels fallen from above. 

Rembrandt ! thy matchless hand and eye are dust : 

"A military gentleman " unknown : 
No more his vengeful, stalwart arm will thrust 

The ruthless sabre to the quivering bone,— 
But on thy canvas, darker grown with years, 
Still lives the shadow of uncounted tears. 



3° 



WHISPERS 

jrp^NE sunny summer afternoon, 

• ■■■•' When lazy lay the languid moon 

Upon the rocking- main, 
Though buried deep in sagest books, 
No light but gleams from pebbly brooks 

Flashed through my aching brain. 

My hat of straw, with tattered crown. 
From rusty nail looked kindly down, 

And waved its silken band ; — 
vSoft music floated on the air ; 
A bree/.y finger touched my hair, 

And cooled my fev'rish hand. 

Across the lawn, and by the well 
Whose dripping water joyous fell 

Back to its darkling nest ; 
O'er meadows shorn, through witching glade, 
I sought the silver poplar's shade, 

And laid me down to rest. 

A breezy finger touched my eyes — 
They closed upon the a/.ure skies ; 

But whispers from above 
Came trembling; from the silver leaves, 



33 



WHISPERS 

As, when a child its mother grieves, 
She pleads her tender love. 

' ' O wandering brook ! will you not stay 
Awhile beneath my shade to-day, 

And, roaming, tell me why ? 
For years I 've pressed your mossy bank, 
And of your bounty freely drank, 

Yet still you rimple by ! " 

The water o'er the polished stones 
Went flashing on— but answering tones 

Came from its shining way : 
" I cannot stay, O gracious tree ! 
A thousand tongues are calling me, 

And gladly I obey. 

' ' Since dreamy midnight fled before 
The op'ning of yon orient door, 

I 've wandered far and wide ; — 
The meadows quaff my brimming cup ; 
Wild flowers in troops come springing up, 

And linger at my side. 

' ' The swallow tastes my limpid breast ; 
The sparrow builds her leafy nest 

Among my dancing plumes, 
And whispers to me as I pass, — 
While all the wild flowers in the grass 

Are offering me perfumes. 



34 



WHISPERS 

" All nature woos Ah ! there 's my joy 

A barefoot, eurly-headed boy 

Awaits me on the sand ; 
A maiden, too, with soft brown hair, 
And form and face supremely fair — 

I '11 kiss — her tiny " 

The voice was lost among the trees ; 
The poplar shivered in the breeze ; 

A leaf came toppling down, 
And roused me from my dreamy bed, 
With beads of dew upon my head 

Like gems in kinglv crown. 



35 




THE LAND OF SIvEEP 

^IPTERNAIv Silence ! World forever dumb ! 
fej^> Ten thousand aeons lie within thy cold, 

Inexorable arms ; — and they enfold 
Rich argosies of human lives, that come 
From out thy frigid breast into the hum 

And fever of our thought, with wealth untold 
Of Arctic secrets — nevermore. Bells tolled, 
Unheard, their exit ; and the muffled drum 
Of soundless under-heaving waters rolled 
Its sullen, ice-cold music through the vast 
Unsympathetic waste of frozen breath 
That spans the brazen Northland, when the bold 
True hearts grew strangely still, and, shudd'ring, 
passed 
Into the bosom of this double death. 



36 



WHO WOULD STAND STILX 

|x0H ! it is beautiful — this growing old ! 
K]X Who would stand still ! 
E'en while the Morning bathes herself in gold, 
The Sun climbs up the hill. 

Who would stand still ! The world we live in spins 

Along the ways 
Worn smooth by thundering ages, and begins 

To show her length of days. 

We must not gaze upon the backward way 

With vain regrets : 
Bright pictures mingle with the evening's gray — 

A few sad silhouettes. 

Only the old have store of memories : 

Their wistful ears 
Are trained to hold the splendid melodies 

And songs of other years. 

And every step they take — each silver hair — 

But marks the near 
And yet still nearer day, when over there 

The white tents disappear. 



37 



WHO WOULD STAND STILL 

One bugle call — and then the glad discharge ! 

Just think of it ! 
To know you stand upon the river's marge — 

The very brink of it ! 

O boyhood's friend ! — that only yesterday 

Exhaled like mist — 
You seemed in sweet content to float away 

On waves of amethyst : 

And howsoever bright this dear old world 

May seem to be, 
The best is where last evening's sunset furled 

Its saffron sails for thee. 



38 



THE RETURN 2 

(C ^Jf&HREE Y ears ! l wonder if she '11 know me : 

I limp a little, and I left one arm 
At Petersburg, and I am grown as brown 

As the plump chestnuts on my little farm ; 
And I am shaggy as the chestnut-burs, 
But ripe and sweet within, and wholly hers. 

" The darling, how I long to see her ! 

My heart outruns this feeble soldier pace ; 
For I remember, after I had left, 

A little Charlie came to take my place. 
Ah, how the laughing three-year-old brown eyes— 
His mother's eyes — will stare with pleased surprise ! 

" I ni sure they "re at the corner watching ; 

I sent them word that I should come to-night ;— 
The birds all know it, for they crowd around, 

Twittering their welcome with a wild delight ; 
And that old robin with a halting wing,— 
I saved her life three years ago last spring. 

" Three years ! Perhaps I am but dreaming, 

For, like the Pilgrim of the long ago, 
I 've tugged a weary burden at my back, 

Through summer's heat and winter's blinding snow, 

41 



THE RETURN 



Till now I reach my home, my darling's breast, 
Where I can throw my burden off — and rest." 



When morning came, the early rising Sun 
Laid his light fingers on a soldier sleeping 

Where a soft covering of bright green grass 
Over two lowly mounds was lightly creeping, 

But waked him not ; — his was the rest eternal, 

Where the brown eyes reflected love supernal. 



42 



HER TWELFTH BIRTHDAY 

£jFpN that far land where Jordan's silver stream 
(s^ Rolls onward, pensive, to the silent sea, 
Dwelt Mary, lovely as an angel's dream, — 
The sweetest flower that bloomed in Galilee. 

So beautiful was she, so queenly fair, 
So full of purity and heavenly worth, 

The Father chose her from the maidens there 
To be the one beloved of all the earth. 



In the sweet vale where Sugar River sings 
Its love-songs to the music of the bells, 

And all the throbbing air is full of wings 
Of bees and birds, another Mary dwells : 

My Mary — darling of her father's heart, 
The centre of a thousand hopes and fears : 

O Son of Mary ! haste to take her part 

When I have passed the Gateway of the Years. 



43 



JUNE FANCIES 

fM)N turning the leaves of my memory 
■4 I found a wonderful June, 
Where the leaves were as green as its hills were blue ; 
Where the birds were as blithe as their vows were true 
Where the humming-bird and the bumble-bee 
Made music as sweet as sweet could be — 

A tremulous, wing-born rune — 
That comes floating to me on this breezy knoll 
As the flood-tides of memory over me roll. 

In that wonderful June of the haze-clad years, 
That thirty springs have embalmed in tears, 

I dreamily strolled 

Through a forest old 
To a home where the lights and .shadows lay 
' Neath the swaying boughs the live-long day ; 
For there the Queen of the forest shades, 
The wild flowers twined in her mazy braids, 
Held daily court in her breezy castle, 
And a loving heart for her trusty vassal. 

But I stopped a beechen tree beneath 
To list to the music the green woods breathe 
From every dell of the wild wood, 
Where the breezy swells 
Make the billowy bells 
Ring soft in the ears of childhood, — 



44 



71 r NE I'. IXC YES 



J 



And the rising and falling tide of green 
That laved the cliffs of the bine unseen 

Unshipped my soul from its moorings. 
So, lying beneath that old beech tree, 
In the wine-dark depths of that summer sea, 
My spirit rose on its poor wings 

Through countless fathoms 
Of leafy chasms, 
To where a boat 
Had chanced to float 
From the mystic realm of phantasms. 

In that gossamer barque, by the world unseen, 
On the surging waves of that sea of green, 
Swinging and singing, 
Singing and swinging, 

Floating along in the ambient air, 
I gathered the forest dreams to my breast 
Till my soul was full of the strange unrest — 
The dancing and tossing and gleaming boughs, 
The whispered songs and the whispered vows — 

That greeted me everywhere. 

The sun was rollicking down the west, 
Proud as a girl in a scarlet vest, 
When I anchored above the staid old tree 
Where I left myself when I went to sea. 

Down through the dim aisles 
And over the rocks, 



45 



JL WE F- INCIES 

Climbing the old stiles, 

And threading the walks 
Which the steady tramp of the thirsty kine 
Had left in many a tortuous line 
Down to the puncheon broad and deep, 
Where the hills deposit the wine they weep, — 
Where the lilies drink themselves into dreams 
Of scintillant wings by the babbling streams,— 

And at waning day 

My devious way 
Had led to the marge of the shadowy bay. 

On the magic mirror's circling brim 

The veeries were singing their evening hymn,— 

But hushed their song, as in days of yore 

When all the world was entranced before 

The beauteous Eve, in her heaven-born dress, 

A vision of new-world loveliness ; 

For a form delicious as Eden graced, 

Half hid by the ripples that kissed her waist, 

Was sporting there in the amber water — 

The sun and the greenwood's fairest daughter. 

I turned aside to a pathway old 

Full of the wondrous vision, 
And met my love in the vanishing gold, 

Roaming the fields elysian. 
What followed there I dare not tell : 

But it was a grand old tune 
Which the green leaves sang, — and they sang it well, 

In that wonderful evening in June. 

46 



SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING 
Vicksburg, Miss., January i, 1869 

SKraAST night the calm, sweet Moon looked down 

•"./.' and wept 
To see the Old Year — tottering", patient, pale — 

vSlow toiling- toward the town while others slept ; — 
His " frosty pow " no kindly covering wore ; 

His silver locks the rudest night winds tossed, 
And snatched his staff, — the icicle he bore, — 

Out of the fingers stiffened with the frost. 
Alone, deserted, friendless, houseless, cold, 

Unpitied and unloved he seemed to be, 
Who once was young and beautiful and bold 

As e'er was rover on the untamed sea. 

Well we remember with what ringing cheers 

He coasted down the snow-clad early days, 
To find his curly head all drenched with tears 

The blue-eyed Spring-time wept at Love's delays ; 
And how he wantoned with the birds and bees, 

And kissed the blossoms till their cheeks were flushed 
With ecstasy of love and Love's decrees : 

And then, with all their blissful passion hushed 
Into the twilight of a perfect peace, 

The young Year glided out beneath the stars, 



49 



SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING 

Shrugging his shoulders at his quick release, 

And with one bound cleared all the Summer bars ! 




Anon we saw him lounging 'neath the trees, 

Sporting in shady woods and waterfalls, 
Fanning himself with every passing breeze, 

And listening the herdsman's cattle-calls, — 
Until plump Autumn, bursting with her stores, 

Brought votive offerings to the pursy Year, 
And opened wide her golden folding-doors 

To any debauchee in search of cheer. 

We saw him enter, and around him sprung 

A hundred nymphs, in beauty's filmiest robes, 
Bringing him cups of purple juices wrung 

From out the sweet hearts of the clustering globes, 
And loading him with lusciousuess, until 

His arms, broad shoulders, back, neck, head, and all 
Were one vast mass of mellow fruits ; — and still 

(The doors swung to) we did not see him fall ! 

5° 



SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING 

But when last eve we saw him toiling on, 

And knew his hours were numbered, we went out 
And took him by the arm — his strength was gone — 

And sought to lead him to discourse about 
The story of his life — a " fourfold tale " 

But broken words 3 were all that met the ear : 
' ' Starvation ' ' — " floods " — " oppression " — " woe 
and wail " — 
' ' Scallawags "■— " insurrection' ' — " Ku Klux 
' ' fear ' ' — 
" Drought " -- " reconstruction " - " constitution 
damned " — 
" The freedmen's bureau " — " earthquakes " — 
" pestilence " — 




Volcanoes 

jammed 
" Collisions 



robbers " — " ships in icefloes 
' carpet-baggers " — " accidents 
5' 



SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING 

When o'er the sleeping city the great tongue 

Of the cathedral bell struck " One — two — three " 

To " twelve " — and then the Old Year lay among 
His myriad brothers that had ceased to be : 

The iron hammer which that giant swung 
Had beaten out his life and set him free ! 




In that weird hour we stood alone, — or thought 
We stood alone, — and heard the mighty wings 

Of Father Time, who crumbles worlds to nought, 
Go sweeping by, bearing the shadowy things 

Of the dead Past to their eternal home, — 

The chief among them Eighteen Sixty-Eight, 

And with his vast collection, the great tome 



5 2 



SPEED THE GOING— WELCOME THE COMING 

That wraps all histories like the Book of Fate : — 
And so we said, — " Farewell, thou grand Old Year ! 

With all thy faults and follies thou did'st bring 
Pleasures and benefits untold — perchance a tear ! 

We '11 shed a few for thee, thou fallen king !" 

A watchman on the Southern walls, we cry, — 

' The day is breaking ! rouse ye from your sleep ! 
The New Year dawns ! and up the eastern sky 

The infant prodigy begins to creep ! 
FT en now from over all the groaning lands 

A thousand voices call, ' What cheer?' ' What cheer?' 
And we reply, — Hope, smiling blandly, stands, 

And wears the features of the glad New Year ! 
Sweet Plenty, — daughter of the fruitful sun, — 

Sits kindly at your boards ; and heavenly Peace, 
With all her glowing train, has just begun 

To break your fetters, giving swift release. 
Fet all the dead Past bury all its dead ! 

Fook not behind ! onward and upward press ! 
Fet the grand Future stand for you in stead 

Of vanished hopes and faded loveliness ! 
Put your own shoulders to the jaded wheel 

Of the great Car that moves the nations on, 
And so, with iron arms and hearts of steel, 

The highest heaven of glory shall be won ; — 
Forgetting not allegiance true to give 

To the Great Monarch of the earth and sky, 
And to the Commonwealth in which you live, 

And to the Starry Flag that gleams on high ! ' ' 

53 



FROM THE PIAZZA 

MT. WASHINGTON FROM THE MT. PLEASANT HOUSE 

rg^fcCROSS his breast the autumn sunbeams fall, 
(stiyl While up his shaggy side the shadows creep 
From foot to crown, — a flock of mountain sheep 
Slow climbing homeward at the shepherd's call, 
Scaling with certain foot the jagged wall, 
O'erleaping gulfs and canons wildly deep 
Within whose cells the storm- winged Furies sleep, — 
Until they gather at their starlit stall. 
And up the iron trail the genii go, 

With sturdy shoulders pushing venturous trains, 
While the grim mountain shakes his sides with 
glee 
To see his faithful vassals toiling so. 

At last the clouds engulf them, and it rains : 
So great ships vanish in a thunderous sea. 



54 



THE BOATMAN 

|ONE autumn day, when all the sweet-voiced woods 

X^ Were laughing merrily in their solitudes, 

And when the arms of Mother Earth were full 

Of fruits delicious, odorous, beautiful, 

There floated down the river of my rhyme 

A drowsy listener to the far-off chime 

Of sweetest bells, that from the hazy shore 

The throbbing ether to the Boatman bore. 

And while his soul on restless wings was gone, 

The silent-sandalled waters drifted on, — 

Past stately shores, high crowned with statelier towers, 

Where dallying day prolonged the festal hours, — 

Past verdurous slopes, whose soft and tempting breast 

Sore lured the wanderer to longed-for rest, — 

Until, like sapphires in a maiden's dream, 

A thousand stars lay Hashing in the stream. 

And over all, — the slopes, the towers, the hill, 
The murmuring water and the Boatman still, — 
The stealthy moon her filmy network flung ; 
But Darkness, terrified, aside had sprung, 
And, mounting hastily the tethered breeze, 
Fled to his hiding-place among the trees, 



57 



THE BOATMAN 

His hoof-beats pattering on the yellow leaves 
Like summer rain-drops from the summer eaves. 

Yet still the Boatman floated down the shores ; 
His nerveless hands still grasped the nerveless oars, 
For o'er the waves came such melodious swells, 
That all the air seemed resonant of bells ; — 
As on the morning when the earth was young 
A universe of worlds their paean rung ; 
Or in some dim, sequestered wood, the birds 
Fill all the sounding aisles with liquid words. 

The Boatman leaned bewildered on his hand, 
For round him floated, beautiful and grand, 
Faces and forms he had not seen before, 
Steering his shallop to the shelving shore, — 
While the mild moon a shadowy Temple threw 
Beneath the answering waters, till there grew 
Upon his vision scenes of fairy-land, 
As lightly shifting as the shifting sand. 

They reached the shore — the Boatman and his crew 
They led him up the path all gemmed with dew 
Which Nature — kindly priestess — had been wont 
To scatter from her beuedictive font,— 
Until they gained the utmost terrace, when 
Such floods of glory burst upon his ken, 
That speechless, motionless, entranced he stood, 
A willing victim for the kindling wood. 

58 



THE BOATMAN 

Yet flowed the river on — but not for him ; 
The shallop beckoned from the water's brim ; 
The waves, that erst breathed music in his ear, 
Now called in vain— the Boatman could not hear; — 
Nor eye nor ear had he for sight or sound 
Save for the fane on that enchanted ground, 
Whose vast entablature rode, high and bold, 
Nine caryatids of the purest mould. 

So Atlas, grimly bending 'neath his load, 
Through fields fouudationless his pathway strode, 
While round and round him sun and moon and stars 
Drave their fierce coursers and their fiery cars, 
Glad homage paying to the stern intent 
Of that unyielding back, yet sorely bent, 
Which, all uncheered by hope of victor's crown, 
Had never paused to lay its burden clown. 

And over all the Temple's massive walls, 
Its mullioned windows lighting twilight halls, 
Its grand entablature, and spires, and dome, 
An evergreen of rarest beauty clomb ; 
And peering out beneath its sheltering green, 
Like Love 'neath lashes of some rustic queen, 
The Boatman saw the faces of his dream 
While floating idly on the errant stream. 

At last they bound him to the crackling pile ; 
The glad wild bell pealed joyously the while ; 

59 



THE BO ATM A IV 

The blazing fagots waved their lambent flame ; 
He heard sweet voices calling him by name ; 
The curling smoke with smothering kisses crept 
Close to his lips and brow— the Boatman slept ; — 
But when the sunlight on that Temple shone, 
It sent back greeting from an added stone. 




60 



THE OLD MAN'S "YESTERDAY." 

v'V/TAS 'T yesterday ? Yes, 'twas yesterday 
^.^ It must have been yesterday morn : 
I sat on a rock by the River Ray, 

Where the squadrons of martial corn 
Their .silken banners had just unfurled 
To the breeze, by the singing stream, 
When a vision of beauty, all golden-curled, 
Grew into my waking dream. 

" I know it was yesterday , for now 

The rustle I seem to hear, 
As the tall corn parted right and left, 

And a voice rang soft and clear, — 
' Wait, Willie, wait ! I am almost there ! 

I said I would grant your wish , 
So I 've made a line of my golden hair, 

And am coming to help you fish ! ' 

" Yes ! (why do I doubt ?) it was yesterday — 

For I see the soft tassels there 
Sunning themselves in a worshipful way 

In the light of her shining hair, 
While her voice rings merrily over the corn, — 

' Oh, Willie ! come help me through, 



THE OLD MAN'S "YESTERDAY" 

For I am " the maiden all forlorn," 
And my feet are wet with dew ! 

" 'And you know I 'm coming to help you fish : 

But you '11 think me a silly girl,' 
For I have n't a bit of bait — but wait ! 

I '11 bait with a tiny curl ! 
And, Willie, say, do you think they '11 bite ? 

And then what shall I do ? 
Must I pull and pull with all my might ? 

But I '11 wait, and look at you !' 

"Ah, me ! ah, me ! was it yesterday ? 

It seems but a day ago ! 
Yet three-score years of yesterdays 

Have covered my head with snow 
Since we sat, where the summer still comes and goes, 

I and my sweetheart May, 
On the rock where the ripples kissed our toes, 

And fished in the River Ray." 



6 4 



OH ! 'T WAS THE FUNNIEST THING 

BUT I 'U, TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT 

(UOp'D had a d'licious birthday! I was just 'xactly 

(&f eight : 
So mamma told my grandpapa, who came in awful late, 
Soon after all the dollies and their mothers 'd gone away, 
And I and Ann Maria were so tired we couldn't play, 
Although I 'm sure he wanted to but grandpapa is 

nice : 
He said he 'd 'xcuse us this time, but he couldn't do it 

twice ! 

"And wasn't it the sweetest thing? — dear mamma 

'ranged it all ! — 
To have my birthday come in May, when apple-blossoms 

fall 
Like great warm rosy snow-flakes all over the soft grass, 
And the dandelions have to blow and struggle through 

the mass 
To get their heads above the snow, p'cisely as the boys 
Do in the winter-time, but not with such a mis'ble noise ! 

" So after dolly 'd said her prayers — I b'lieve I 'd said 

mine too — 
And mamma 'd kissed me— just how many times I never 

knew — 

65 



OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING 

And said ' Good-night, with pleasant dreams,' and tucked 

us both in tight, 
(You wouldn't b'lieve it ! but I tumbled out of bed one 

night 
And bumped my nose! — 'e-'e-'e-'e !) I never knew a 

thing 
Until, along towards morning, I heard a ting-a-ling-liug. 

" Well, p'r'aps I wasn't wide awake ! — but I just gave 

a leap 
Right out of bed, and left poor Ann Maria fast asleep, 
And hurried to the window where it opens on the lawn — 
And what d' you think I saw out there, all in the early 

dawn ? 
Why, forty hundred dew-bells rung by forty hundred elves ! 
Nobody heard those elfin chimes but just me — and them- 
selves ! 

" I heard them ring as plain as day ; — and down among 
the trees 

I saw the funniest goings-on ! — Some great fat Bumble- 
bees, 

And Humming-birds, and Butterflies, and lots of other 
things — 

Each one before a dew-drop mirror prinked, and stretched 
her wings, 

And combed her hair — then washed her face and bathed 
her pretty toes 

In the little pools that nestled in some sleepy Jacquemi- 
nots. 

66 



OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING 

"And then to end their frolic, all their toilets being 
done, 

They found a 'normous dew-drop, just as golden as the 
sun, 

Almost as fat and jolly, which they whirled and danced 
around — 

The skirt dance ! — I know how myself ! — with not a .sin- 
gle sound 

Except the cut-glass elfin bells, and the laughter of the 
bees 

As they kicked, and bowed, and swayed, and twisted, 
underneath the trees. 

" I couldn't stand it 'nother minute — rushed headlong 
down the stair, 

Barefooted, in my 'nighty,' dragging dolly by the hair, 

My own hair flying wildly, and we joined the merry-go- 
round 

Till the dew-drop grew so dizzy she rolled over on the 
ground : 

'Twas then the Butterfly trod upon old Bumble's sorest 
toe, 

And the touchy thing just threatened 'sassination to her 
foe! 

' ' She always carried — so she said — a dagger or two for use 
In just sue// eases, and ' 't would give her pleasure to intro- 
duce 

But the speech was never finished, for the Butterfly flew 

away, 

67 



OH I 'TWAS THE FUNNIEST THING 

And the Bumblebee sent for a doctor, and the rest of us 

wouldn't stay, 
And — what seems most inexp-p'eable — my mamma 

' Good-morning ' said, 
And I looked around, and there we were, both snug in 

our little bed ! ' ' 




— " your doom 
Is whispered down the grim and silent halls." 



THE PRINCES IN THE TOWER 

jOU wander hand in hand from room to room — 
(JLji On ever}- side barred windows and dead walls ; 
Dark shadows lnrk in corners, and your doom 

Is whispered down the grim and silent halls. 
Go to your couch, my Princes ! Let the sleep 

Of sweet forgetfulness sit on your eyes 
And dull your ears : so may your dreams be deep 

The while you pass unconscious to the skies. 

But that was O so long ago ! 

The princes of to-day 
Are free as birds to come and go 

From morn till evening gray. 
They are not smothered, drowned, or burned — 

Their feet are fleet as wings : 
Before we know it, they are turned 

From princes into kings. 



O GEMINI 

PRECIOUS pair of rascals, truly ! 
Up to all sorts of pranks unruly ! 
Fun and frolic in every motion ! 
As many moods as the changeful ocean — 

Sunshine and tempest any day ! 
What has become of the household quiet ? 
Gone ! — and ducats couldn't buy it ! 

Where did you come from, any way? 

Does Leda know you have gone a- Maying — 
Gone, from the fields of gold a-straying ? 
Did the watchful hosts of heaven say things 
When you threw away your starry playthings ? 

How they must miss you ilka day ! 
And such a long, dark journey — sleepy, 
And all alone, and hungry, weepy ! — 

You must have come by the Milky Way. 

The world is brighter since you love us ; 
But the fields of gold are dark above us, 
For now, at night, when you are calling, 
The glist'ning stars, like tears, are falling — 



72 



O GEM/ XI 

Falling for their lost Gemini : 
But though the weeping heavens miss you, 
And Leda longs to hug and kiss you, 

We cannot spare you — Clem and I. 




73 



THE ROAD AND THE RIVER 

§T was an eerie Road, but beautiful — in places : 
It wound along the foot of wooded hills, 
Now underneath great beetling cliffs with sullen faces, 

Then down the .softest valleys where the trills 
Of sylvan songsters filled the laughing, flower-clad 
meadows 
With music till the hour of evening prayer ; 
Then picked its way through undiscovered, starlit 
shadows, 
To places slumberful, and strange to care. 

The Road was wide and long — it had no known begin- 
ning ; 

The end no mortal eye would ever see ; — 
Forms tantalizing, beautiful, well worth the winning, 

Seemed ever beck'ning to some Good to be. 
And so the Road wound in and out — across morasses 

That shook beneath the tramp of host on host, 
While up and down and through the darkened mountain 
passes 

The tireless way led on from post to post. 

Beside this antique Road, unseen, unheard, a River 
Forever hugged the shore ; — its stealthy tread — 



74 



THE ROAD AND THE RIVER 

So soft and velvety it was — ne'er caused a shiver 
Among the heedless throng, nor thought of dread. 

They could not hear the dip of oars, nor yet the singing 
The fragrant air across the River bore ; 

They could not hear the eager swish of angels winging 
Their joyful errands on the sunlit shore. 

The River was not always deep, for sparkling shallows 

Made music, sometimes, for the children's ears ; 
Sometimes a glimpse across to where the sweet marsh- 
mallows 

Were growing, filled their wistful eyes with tears ; 
And once a little one, the darling of her mother, 

Her bare toes gleaming on the shining sand, 
And, closely guarding her, her watchful, brown-eyed 
brother, 

Went wading through the ripples hand in hand — 

And they were seen no more, their sunny faces hidden 

By floods of mist, perchance by floods of tears. 
But no one left that dusty, crowded Road unbidden : 

I watched them closely through the maze of years, 
And always — somehow, somewhere, sometime — still, un- 
sleeping — 

The voiceless boatman of the silent sea 
Was waiting at the brink, unmindful of the weeping, 

To row the traveller to the far countree. 



75 




A PORTRAIT FROM THE SEA 4 

c£Z;TRANGE Slavic face ! — I mind the morning well 
G^> When first I met yon on that pebbly shore ! 
Old Ocean steadfastly refused to tell 
How he had polished yon with every swell 

For ages ; how he rolled you o'er and o'er 

The threshold of the beach's open door, 
A clear-cut portrait (artist, Wind- and- Wave), 
A foundling rescued from a watery grave. 

I wonder if St. Vladimir the Great 

E'er used your droshky in his rides of state ! 
Or did the face you counterfeit so well 
L,ook last on earth from some foul prison cell ? 

Not tell the secret of your age or birth ! 

Why, fur-capped Russian ! what 's your secret worth ? 



76 



ON THE ROCKS AT YORK 

|$HA, old Ocean ! — so I find you here, 
Just as I left you years and years ago, 
Unruffled, beautiful, a world of blue, — 

To-morrow, doubtless, to be decked with snow 
In dancing drifts upon an azure field, 

While o'er your face the warm south breezes blow. 

A calm, inviting, gently rippling sea, 
Your clear-cut facets flashing in the sun, 

Purring in soft content, in sleepy ease, 
After the frolics of the day are done, 

Whispering wild legends to the bearded rocks 
Ere yet the moon her journey has begun. 

Oft have I seen you kiss their rugged lips, 

Pledge them eternal fealty and trust, 
Full them to confidence with siren song, 

And then, upon the first great windy gust, 
Fly at their faces, shrieking loud and long, 

Doing your best to grind them into dust. 

" Thus far " — " no farther " (?) — See the rocky shore 

Slowly recede before the blows that fall 
From that old snant Tide-and-Wind-aiid-Wave ! 



79 



ON THE ROCKS AT YORK 

On all tempestuous nights I hear him call, — 

And night-fiends come, with battle-axe and ram, 

And thunder at the gray and crumbling wall. 

And so, old Sea, you eat the shore away : 
The icons pass — the mountains fill the sea, 

Gnawed into fragments by the tooth of Time : 
Some day, some day — it matters not to me — 

The continent will vanish, as this rhyme, 

And sea and sunset clasp their hands in glee. 





So 



SILVER WEDDING BELXS 

,uORETTER fifty years of Europe than a cycle of 

G^fa Cathay," 
Sang a poet of our Fatherland, three thousand miles 

away, — 
On a little sea-girt island, just the bigness of your hand, 
Which the waves will wash away, some day, like piles 
of silver sand. 

But by "Europe" he meant England, as his rhythmic 

numbers rolled : 
All the world beyond the Channel had been left out in 

the cold. 
Pity overspread his features, with contempt not far away, 
As he thought of England's glory — and the wretches of 

Cathay ! 

" How they envy us our good things ! How they long to 

come in flocks 
To this island," thought the poet, "where we live like 

fighting cocks ! 
Where the blessed sun shines every day — beyond the 

clouds and fogs ! 
And where no blarsted Frenchman lives to gobble up 

our frogs ! ' ' 



SILVER WEDDING BELLS 

With sentiments akin to these, the happy pair to-night 
Look down upon the common world, from off the dizzy 

height 
Toward which, for just one hundred years — less seventy 

and five ! 
They 've bravely climbed, through sun and storm, and 

wonder they 're alive ! 

" ' Survival of the fittest !' — look at us and see how true ! 
Those who reach this sun-crowned pinnacle are really 

very few ! 
And then, to think what we have done ! — look round 

upon our sons ! 
Four stalwart boys, as brave as ever fired their country's 

guns ! 

" How many have done better? Count your jewels o'er 

and o'er, 
And if, perchance, in counting them you make the 

number more, 
Thank Him who made your cup of life's rich juices 

overflow 
In sweeter draughts of happiness than angels ever 

know ! 

" With deep and true thanksgiving, and with placid 

souls to-night, 
We gaze upon the faded years, so rapid in their flight, 
With a sort of mellow pity for the men and maidens fair 
Who here have shut out heaven, while not certain of it 

there ! ' ' 

S3 



SILVER WEDDING BELLS 

Such are the pleasing fancies that go coursing through 

the brains 
Of host and hostess, like the steeds of Arabs o'er the 

plains : 
We will not grudge them one bright thought, for ne'er 

for them on earth 
Will such a morning dawn again, or such a day have 

birth. 



I remember well the morning, although 't was long ago ! 
Jack Frost had limned the window-panes — outside, the 

creaking snow : 
The lazy sun lay shivering in bed behind the hills : 
He had no wife to keep him warm—the worst of human ills ! 

He drew the blankets tightly round his head and lusty 
form, 

For 't was a morning when a bed of coals could not 
keep warm : 

The breakfast bell he scouted, his hair was all un- 
kempt, 

And for weddings he professed to feel the most sublime 
contempt. 

Such was the situation ; — in a room not far away — 
I see it now as plainly as though 'twere yesterday — 
Warm friends and kindly neighbors had gathered one 

by one 
To say " God-speed," and kiss the bride — a jewel fairly 

won. 

83 



SILVER WEDDING BELLS 

They stood before the minister, this young and lovely 

pair, — 
He young — she lovely — both young : — I am bound to 

treat them fair ! 
Brave words were softly said — a maiden vanished like 

the dew : 
That moment — ■ — disappeared from mortal view. 




Ends the story. They are with us ; — five-and-twenty 

years ago 
They began their pleasant journey, when the world was 

dressed in snow, 
Robed expressly for the wedding, robed in white again 

to-night, 
While the moon, true love's assistant, sheds o'er all her 

tender light. 

Blessings on them — blessings ever ! May their last years 

be their best ! 
May the}' gaze with tranquil rapture toward the gateway 

of the west, 
Where all things bright and beautiful — the sun, the 

moon, the stars — 
In long processions disappear behind the golden bars. 

84 




I 5 



THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING 

'. IaOLD Buccaneer! from your starry tent, 
C%fa Where the frost king cannot bind you, 
You scurry away, on mischief bent, 

With your crew of howls behind you : 
Ride fast and far, till your horses' neigh 

And the clang of your spurs and lances 
Are heard from the close to the break of day 

In the children's dreamland fancies. 
Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 

Drive headlong down great Baffin bay, 

Plough deep the cringing water, 
Till the thousand storm-born Furies play 

At the game of wreck and slaughter : 
Fly thundering down the slopes of snow 

On your plunging ice toboggan. 
Your war-cry heard by friend and foe — 

The North Wind's mighty slogan ! 
Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 

Shriek madly — howl to your heart's content, 

Demoniac wind of the winter ! 
Blow high ! blow low ! till your strength is spent- 

The strength of an Arctic sprinter! 

S; 



THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING 

Go trumpeting through the mountain woods 

Like a giant Son of Thunder, 
And waken the torpid solitudes 

As the hemlocks split asunder. 
Blow-\v-w ! Blow-w-w ! 




Seize hold of the elm trees' shivering limbs, 

And give the old roof a lashing 
To the tune of your ringing battle hymns 

And the toppling tiles down-crashing : 
Push recklessly through that clapboard rent 

Where the out- with the inside mingles, 
And, to give our spirits a freer vent, 

Take a twist at the mossy shingles. 
Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 

You have wrecked fair ships and have played 
with Death, 

Fierce foe of the icebound seaman ! 
Have shaken our cot with your gusty breath— 

The breath of a storm-brewed demon ! 



88 



THE NORTH WIND'S WINTER OUTING 

But come to the door by the frosty path 
And list to the children's prattle, 

The crackling logs on the blazing hearth, 
And the teakettle's tittle-tattle. 
Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 

The children play where the firelight falls — 

( )utside, the snow is flying ! 
The shadows dance on the laughing walls — 

Who cares for the North Wind's sighing ! 
Go back, wild tramp, bewildered, dumb, 

To your home where the mercury freezes ; 
But come again when the blue-birds come. 

In the softest of vernal breezes. 
Blow-w-w ! Blow-w-w ! 



89 



Y E BALADE OF Y K FRETFUI.lv EYTEL ROBIN 

4§M BEASING sumer afternone : — 
^fb No breth of aire was steringe ; 
Y e frogges blynked 'neath y e lilie-paddes ; 
No partriches were whurring. 

Y e grases wulde nott bend their beds, 

Nor wbysper to eehe other ; 
Y e lambs, in lamb's-wooll sumer suites, 

Were sure that they sholde .smother. 

Y e kow stood kne-deepe in y c pool 

Where temptinge sehade hadde broghte hir : 

Hir nerveless taille hung limpe and stille 
Above y° steaminge water. 

Y e bumblenbees, on languid winges, 
Went horn, and ceased their humming, 

And in their easy-chaires they dremed 
Of cool Septembre's coming. 

Y e molten suiine runne downe y c west, 

Impacient for y e shelter 
Beyond y e cool grene mountain-toppes — 

Y e daye was suche a melter ! 

90 



YE BALADE OF YE FRETFULL LYTEL ROBIN 

A panting lytel Robin, perched 

Amonge y p rede-eheked cheries, 
So overcome hee coude nott pyke 

Y° tantalising beries, — 

Sehokk d his mamma with dreadfull wordes : 

' ' If thys s y° kinde of wether 
You ve hatched mee to, I wisch — I wisch — 

I ddc nott a single fether 

" Upon my bak — so there !" — Atte thys 

Y° precious lytel mother 
Just gasped — and sobbed ; — shee coude nott chide 

Thys childe — shee hackle no other. 

But whenne y e father homeward came 

Acros y° feeldes of clover, 
And herde y e sad, sad storie, theune 

Hee sente a lettre over 

To Robin-toun for twenty byrdes 

To sitte in consultation 
Upon thys case of mutinie 

Within y e Robin nation. 

e 

They sate within y e cherie-tree — 

Eche Robin took a cherie — 
Whiles on a distant lim y° childe 

Of sinue sate solemne — very. 



91 



YE BALADE OF YE FRETFULL LYTEL ROBIN 

Y° final verdit was, that eche 

And everie single fether 
Sholde bee pulled off y c Robin's bak, 

Regardless of y e wether, — 

And that hee thenne bee turned aloofe 

To rome y e wyde worlde over, 
A hatteless, eoteless, hornless byrde, 

Without a frend or lover. 

Atte once they fell upon y e ehilde — 

Thys sterne, relentless jurie— 
And wulde have torn eehe fether out 

In their ungoverned furie, — 

Hadde nott y e farmer's trustie gunue 
Just thenne begunne its cracking : 

In fiftene minutes twenty byrdes 
In Robin-laud were lacking. 

Nexte daye y e morn was cool and bright : 

Y c farmer hadde for dinner 
A most delicious Robin-pye : 

A sweete songe sang y e sinner 

Oute in y c orcherd where y e breese 

Swung high y e mocking beries, 
And filled his downie basket fulle 

Of rype, rede-brested cheries. 



92 



HOW CAN YOU EVER FIND ME 

iC : : Jr'T is so hard, my love, my more than life, 

G\ To say Good-bye ; 
To leave the arms so empty, where your wife 

Found it so sweet to lie ; 
No kisses — oh ! it cuts me like a knife, 

Dear one, just to lie down and die, 
E'en though your great heart guards my slumber deep, 

And June's warm tones, in whispers low, 
Break lovingly upon my dreamless sleep, 

And I can hear you go, 
And come again, and go, and hear you weep, 

You love me so. 

" And, dearest, when you come to that far land 

Where I shall be, 
I may not know the place upon the strand 

Of the deep crystal sea 
Where your light boat will touch ; — I may not stand 

With outstretched arms, where you can see 
The face you long for ; — I may be away 

Oti some most sweet and holy quest : — 
How can you ever find me, then ? — the way 

Will seem so long, at best, 
Till your dear head may lie again, some day, 

Upon my breast." 

93 



HOW CAN YOU EVER FIND ME 

" Dear heart, it will be easy, when I go, 

To find you there, 
For all the heavenly throng will surely know 

Your dazzling, sunlit hair, 
So radiantly beautiful, and so 

Will make sweet haste to tell me where 
My hungry heart may find you — in what realm 

Of beauty. I shall listen long, 
Beneath the shade of some o'erarehing elm, 

For snatches of a song 
That will my soul with rapture overwhelm 

And make me strong. 

" And I shall follow it — no song so sweet 

Was ever heard ; 
Shall wildly listen for your footsteps fleet, 

Swifter than any bird ; — 
And when the violets beneath your feet 

Breathe in your breath, their fragrance stirred 
By your glad coming ; and the ruddy gleams 

Of parted lips, just touched with dew, 
Break through the trees ; and the warm, limpid beams 

Of loving eyes of blue 
Come flying to my arms — Good-bye, wild dreams ! 

/ shall have you . ' ' 



94 




.iwilki 



FAIR ORMOND 

! EgAIR Ormond of the suubright shore — 

• How sweet our memories be ! 
The restful river at her door ; 
Behind, the white-fringed sea. 

The wild waves chant her sweetest charms- 
She turns her face away ! 

The warm breeze clasps her in his arms 
And kisses her all day. 

A Oueen, no jewelled robe she lacks : 

She reigns right royally, 
One soft hand on the Halifax, 

The other on the sea. 

Her orange groves are wondrous fair : 

The clustered yellow globes 
Are grouped in constellations there — 

Thrown back their royal robes 

( M emerald-green, so longing eyes 
May feast on golden worlds 



97 



FAIR ORMOND 

That hang for aye in Southern skies 
For orange-blossom girls. 

The live-oaks swing the woodland sprites 

In loops of ashen gray, 
When lovers crowd the moonlight nights, 

And fairy-land is gay. 



■ >:. 
IB 














Through massive golden sunset bars 

The day departs in state, 
While one by one the wizard stars 

Steal through the twilight gate 

To gaze on bloody fields of old, 
Of Spanish derring-do, 



9 3 



FAIR ORMOND 

Where Ponee de L,eon fought for gold 
And Indian arrows flew. 

And if we listen when the doors 

Of night are all ajar, 
The rhythmic dip of shadowy oars 

Will greet us from afar. 

Where seintillant Tomoka glides, 

With heaven above, below, 
Red warriors wooed their wild-rose brides 

And still his waters flow 




As calmly, mutely to the sea 
As ever waters ran, — 

The loveliest dream in Florida, 
An Arcady for Pan. 



99 



FAIR ORMOND 

Fair Ormond ! you are wondrous sweet- 
Your flowers, your birds, your trees ;- 

We kiss again your dainty feet ; 
We feel your cooling; breeze. 




ANNIVERSARY POEM 5 

51 »N a far Eastern land — the splendid Sunrise L,and — 
(&>"" There lived a king, three thousand years ago : 
So wise was he, so gentle, and so large of heart, 

That all the kings of earth would come, and go, 
And come again, to question him, and catch the pearls 

Of wisdom that, like gleaming drops of dew, 
Fell from his rich, ripe lips. His fame spread over all 

The lands ; and once a queen, with retinue 
Of camels that bore spices, and much gold, and stones 

Most precious — the most beautiful and wise 
Of women — came to prove him with hard questionings. 

The half had not been told ; — she veiled her eyes ; 
There was no spirit left in her. She sadly turned — 

This proud and noble dame — back to her own 
Fair land, with all her train of servants, cattle, gifts, 

And stores of wisdom hitherto unknown, 
A nobler, sweeter, purer, queeulier queen 
Than wise King Solomon had ever seen. 

But once — so runs the tale — the great King Solomon 
Received command from a far Greater King 

To build a palace — a grand temple — to His Name, 
Whose richness and magnificence should ring 



ANMl 'ERSAR J ' POEM 

A down the vibrant ages — unapproachable 

By king or potentate, ere yet the tide 
Of time should drift us all upon the farther shore 

And close the record on the hither side. 

The great king called his builders and his architects 

Into close counsel, and his plans were told : 
But there were not, in all his realm, artificers 

In wood and brass and ivory and gold 
With skill and subtle wisdom equal to the task 

Of inlaid work and carved cherubim, 
Gigantic pillars of bright brass, a molten sea 

With just three hundred knops beneath the brim, 
And lions, massive oxen, brazen wheels, and all 

The thousand other weird and wondrous things 
That made this palace of the Greater King divine — 

A Wonder of the World, as history sings. 

The great king's heart was sorely troubled, and he went 

To the high tower where he was wont to pray, 
And drew a soft divan to the great window, where 

He could o'erlook the city ; — 'twas broad day — 
But he was weary, sad, and sick at heart, for he 

Could see no sunshine brightening his way. 
Some unseen finger touched his tremulous eyes — he 
slept. 

A voice familiar fell upon his ear : 
"O king! take heart of grace: thy father's dearest 
friend, 

The king of Tyre, will help thee : never fear ! 



ANNIVERSARY POEM 

Awake ! e'en now his servant standeth at thy door 

With kindly messages for David's son." 
The king awoke : the dream was true — the problem 
solved : 

The dreamer's face shone like the rising sun. 

Meanwhile (the king was very near the hearts of all 

His loyal subjects) a vague rumor spread 
Throughout the city that his heart was troubled sore 

Because he had no artisan with head 
Sufficient for the royal task ; and sympathy 

And tender helpfulness and kindly words 
Came up from every side. But one bright early morn 

A flock of brilliant plumaged, white-winged birds 
Came flying o'er the city from the smiling west, 

And all the air was full of sparkling song, 
Which seemed to say to all those eager ears, — "Cheer 
up, 

For help is coming, and 'twill not be long ! 
Iyook to the west! Cheer up!" — and then they circled 
round 

And o'er the expectant city, till the hearts 
Of all grew lighter than the lightest thistle-down : 

E'en merchants came from all the crowded marts 
To join the throng : and as they gazed, came winding 
down 

The hills, with rapid, graceful, easy swing, 
A long processiou — horses, camels, men — and at 

Their head the grand old man from Tyre — the king ! 

i°3 



ANNIl 'ERSAR i ' POEM 

As this great retinue approached the wide-eyed throng, 

And recognition came like lightning flash — 
" Hiram of Tyre !" they cried — " The king ! Hiram the 
king ! 

Hiram our benefactor ! ' ' Crash on crash 
The shouts rolled back in thunder peals, wave after 
wave, 

Over the city, over vale and hill, 
Dying away in faintest echoes, as dies the storm 

At the great Master's mandate, " Peace ! be still !" 

So Solomon and Hiram, friends and lovers, built 

That wondrous pile. Their fleets sailed side by side 
To Ophir, and brought back great store of ivory, 

And gold, and precious stones, and fabrics dyed 
In the rich colors of those dim, barbaric climes, 

To decorate the temple. And the king 
Of Tyre denuded Lebanon of cedars, firs, 

And everything of worth, that he might bring 
The oil of gladness to its humble worshippers. 

And when the task of that seven years was done — 
The twice one hundred thousand artisans at rest — 

That regal dream stood flashing in the sun, 
The grandest epic of the ages, and the best. 

So runs the strange old .story ; — it is quaintly told 
On dim and musty parchments, in the deep 

And dark recesses of an ancient monastery 

In the far East, where .strangest legends sleep, 

104 



ANNIVERSARY POEM 

And only curious travellers, who dig and delve 

For hidden gems, can rouse them from their slumbers : 
Let them sleep. 

Alas for that grand pile ! Where, where is it to-day ? 

No eye for five-and-twenty hundred years 
Has gazed upon its towers and peerless pinnacles : 

'Tis buried in a soundless sea of tears. 



Another temple, not so grand and beautiful, 

We sing to-day ; a temple reared by hands 
And hearts and brains as true as ever struck a blow 

For love of God and man in Eastern lands ; 
A temple round whose modest pillars cling the loves 

Of thousands who have worshipped at its shrine, 
Whose tender memories, quivering through the haze of 
years, 

Dress it in robes that seem almost divine ; 
A temple reared to Education, Truth, and God, 
Most of whose builders lie beneath the sod. 

And yet this temple groweth still— it is not done : 
Of years three score and ten and five, it stands 

Baring its white, cool, youthful forehead to the sun, 
Gazing adown the centuries, its hands 

Outstretched in passionate welcome to the splendid sous 
And daughters of the future, whose clear eyes— 

As full of sweetest laughter as your mountain brooks- 
Shall aye reflect the nations' destinies. 

105 



ANNIl r ERSAR } ' PC 7EM 

Here shall they come, iu troops, to taste the cooling 
spring, 

And thirsty souls shall drink, and drink again, 
And, passing out these academic doors, shall go 

To lift to higher planes their fellow- men. 

Another Hiram, 6 too, we sing, and every inch 

A man, a king, — yea, every inch a king 
No whit the less than he of fragrant memory 

Whose praise the Poet has essayed to sing. 
The strength and wisdom of his ripe and golden years, 

His forceful guiding hand and teeming brain, 
Helped fashion here a fane so grand, we could but think 

The king of Tyre had come to earth again. 

To-day we saw a long procession winding up 

The hill, in gay attire, and at its head 
A form and face familiar in the years gone by : 

Our hearts were lighter, baleful fancies fled, 
For in that noble form we saw Hiram the king ! 

And warm hearts greeted him with silent cheers. 
No crown of gold sat heavy on his brow — instead, 

The rime of wisdom and of four-score years, 
As light and airy as the fleecy clouds of June 

Afloat in ether, — and an easy grace, 
Born of a life well spent, spread o'er his countenance : 

We thought he had a wondrous lovely face. 
Welcome, King Hiram, to your own ! — a kingdom won 
By the sheer force of duties nobly, grandly done ! 

1 06 



ANNIVERSARY POEM 

And here, upon the summit of this sun-erowned height, 

A beacon light, this modern temple stands, 
And hearts of gold will turn to her their eager feet, 

Drawn to her altars by her high commands. 
Her gracious light shall not be hid ; — like Joseph's kin, 

The sun, the moon, and the eleven stars, 
And all the circling mountains, feel their pulses thrill 

With humble homage, and shall leap the bars 
That stand between them and old Thetford Hill. 

The Poet, from the vantage-ground of his high tower 

Upon the rocky, thunderous coast of Maine, 
L,ooks out of his wide window on the turbulent sea 

And sees uncounted ships, an endless train, 
Go sailing by, and every canvas swelling with 

The hope and faith that high endeavor knows. 
How eagerly the white arms welcome every breeze 

From softest kisses to the hardest blows ! 
See how the salt spray leaps and flashes in the sun, 

And falls in cooling drops upon the prow ! 
See how the dancing waters humbly step aside 

To leave a pathway for the gleaming plow ! 
And you can hear the jocund voices of the crew 

Come lilting o'er the waves — I hear them now ! 
So each fair ship goes sailing on, and on, and 
on, 

Bound to some far-off port — God only knows 
The where, or whether its great anchor ever will 

Be cast where never more the wild wind blows ; 



107 



ANN I 1 'ERSAR J ' POEM 

Or whether, as the full ripe years go marching by, 
These brave craft, weather-beaten, canvas-torn, 

Will proudly sail across the harbor bar of home 

And cast their anchors where their hopes were born. 

Old Thetford Hill has sent her noblest craft to sea : 
Where are they now ? — Sometimes she cries, with 
tears, 
"When will my ships — my splendid ships — come back 
to me ? 
When will my ships come home?" But darkest fears 
Give place to triumph ! L,ook ! This early morn a soft 

Brisk breeze across the white-capped waters blew ; 
A fleet of bellying sail came flying down the wind, 
On every deck a bronzed, stout-hearted crew ; — 
And look around you now ! These faces — do you know ? — 
Are but the ships old Thetford launched — her ships of 
Long Ago. 



1 08 




" Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now. 



TWO APPLES 7 

EVE 

^EAUTIFUL. Queen of the shadowy aisles, 
Lighting their depths with your innocent wiles 
Wander not far from the whispering tree ; 
Adam lies under it dreaming of thee. 
Doubt is already disturbing his rest : 
Golden head ! go back and lie on his breast. 

Empress of Hearts the world over, beware ! 
Dangers beset thee, so young and so fair ; — 

Touch not the rosy-red fruit on the bough ; 

Rosy-red lips must not taste of it now. 

!!!!!! 
Eve ! O sweet Mother ! the world is in tears : 
Yet Hope floats serene down the river of years. 



TWO APPLES 



TELL 



That massive tree is not more firm of foot 

Than thou art, little Tell ! 
Thy father planted thee : thou must stay put — 

The why, thou knowest well. 
The tree and thou art back to back — stand firm ! 

The apple on thy head 
Has an uncertain, doubtful footing ; — squirm, 

And off it rolls, like lead ! 
Cling to the tree ! Steady ! Keep open eyes ! 

When all is done, shout " Ready !" 
Whiz-z-z ! — How that arrow from the stout bow flies! 

Thud! — What, done already? 




1 Cling to the tree ! Steady!' 



THE GARDENS OF NODDY 

|jB)OWN iii the Gardens of Nid-uod-Noddy, 

<§Y$ Whither my pretty baby 's going, 

Nicest things and sweetest things for every baby body 

Are growing — growing growing. 

Little white pearls, like peas in a poddy, 

Out through the rosy gates are peeping, 
Down in the Gardens of Nid-nod- Noddy, 

Where my baby 's creeping. 

Still are the Gardens of Noddy, and shady — 

None can be warmer or lighter : 
Mamma is the sunlight and starlight, the lady 

That makes the gardens sweeter and brighter 
For every little baby boy and every little maidy 

That listens to the song she is humming 
Down in the gardens where the birdies keep shady, — 

" Nid-nod-Noddy 's coining !" 

Daffodils and poppies, hollyhocks and clover, 

Down in the Gardens of Noddy, 
Nod their pretty sleepy heads, over and over, 

To every little sleepy-headed body 

"5 



THE GARDENS OE NODDY 

That wanders through those dreamy aisles to find a cosy 
cover 
Where the Nodheads in their hammocks are swing- 
ing ; 
Where are buttercups and daisies, golden-rod and clover, 
Sleepily — sleepily singing. 

Bees are stealing honey, and all about us flying, 
Looking for my pretty darling, maybe, 

But if in mamma's drowsy lap they find him snugly 
lying, 
They '11 dare not kiss my blue-eyed little baby. 

In the Noddy gardens all the sights and sounds are 
dying- 
Mamma's loving eyes have ceased their beaming ; 

All the world has drifted off, like summer clouds a-flying — 
Baby 's dreaming — dreaming. 



116 



PARALLELS 

/^NVISIBLE To-morrows crowd the encircling ether ! 
(9+ The granary of Time is full of them. And when 
The great black iron midnight gate falls prone before 

The might}- blows of the cathedral bell, a germ 
Shoots forth from its unseen retreat — a burning star 

From darkest background — and the bright To-day is 
born. 
So unborn souls are waiting — the uncounted millions 

Of God's sweet thoughts, stored in the vaulted cham- 
bers of 
Eternity — for the great summons. One by one, 

Like rain-drops from a balmy summer sky, they come 
Out of the vast unseen into the blazing light : 

Birth is their starting-place, and life their grand To- 
day. 

To-day sits on the breezy summer hill-tops, smiling ; — 
The pliant sun bounds up the cliffs at his command ; 

He paints fantastic ships upon the bright blue sea 

Above him ; bids the song-birds sing, the children play, 

And all the world be glad. But Night, remorseless, comes 
And snuffs his candle out : alas ! To-day is done ! 

117 



PARALLELS 

And Man, whose day began so blithely in the morning 
With touch of mother lips, the robin's song among 

The tree-tops, and the sweet breath of the western wind, 
Springs lightly to the helm of his fair ship, and sails 

Away into the beck'niug west, a phantom barque. 

Ah me ! Night eometh all too soon : his Day is done ! 

All the To-morrows and To-days since Time came flying 
Across abysmal space, sink in the pulseless sea 

Of Yesterdays ; — and Man — immortal, God-like Man — 
Goes with them, — but to rise to a more perfect day 

On some bright shore where Death is but a memory, 
And Night is buried in a living sea of Dight. 



nS 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO 8 

THOUSAND hearts are swelling 
With gratitude to-day, 
For here, to this His dwelling, 
Our Saviour leads the way : 
We turn the ancient pages, 

We scan the yellow leaves, 

Where Jesus, through the ages, 

Has written of His sheaves. 

We 've heard the simple story 

Of that courageous band, 
The young, and heads all hoar}-, 

That came to this fair land, 
The pathless wilds before them, 

The sleepless stars above, 
With Heaven bending o'er them, 

Its great heart full of love. 

The dews of June 9 were glist'ning 

Among the tree-tops there, 
And softest breezes list'ning 

To sadly cadenced prayer, 
When on that Sabbath morning 

A fire began to glow, — 



119 



A HUNDRED YEARS AGO 

This Church's faint, sweet dawning, 
A hundred years ago. 

A hundred years ! — How glorious 

Their voices, and how strong, 
As down the years, victorious, 

The echoes roll along. 
O Christ ! like them undaunted 

When overwhelmed with woe, 
Come bless the Church they planted 

A hundred years ago. 




120 




Now flying wildly through the ghostly mill " — 



THE FARM-HOUSE 

f/jpHE laughing sunshine peers above the hill, 
l c^z> And down the slumbering vale ; 
Then hastens on with nimble feet, until, 
A rood or two beyond the silvery rill 
Now flying wildly through the ghostly mill, 
He gains the cottage pale. 

The hospitable gate stands open wide, 

And, with impatient lips, 
The morning-glory beckons to her side 
The wayward youth whose quest she ne'er denied ; 
Her tangled tresses quick he thrusts aside, 

And dewy nectar sips. 

He lingers lovingly among the flowers 

That fringe the open door ; 
Then steals within, and wakes with magic powers 
The forms at rest in Dreamland's rustic bowers, 
And plays through morning's golden-tinted hours 

Upon the oaken floor. 

Meanwhile the swirling, effervescent brook 

Halts, and with dainty poise 
Leaps headlong to the sparkling, darkling nook, 
Where coiled it lies, a-dreaming of the spook, — 
The wheezy wheel, that groaned and stretched and shook 

With harsh, blood-curdling noise. 

I2 3 



THE FARM-HOUSE 

The birds troll welcome to the .summer days 

From airy turrets high ; 
The bees are humming over ancient lays 
That erst were heard in Eden's shaded ways 
On that bright morn when universal praise 

Rolled through the arching sky. 

Bold chanticleers, with summons loud and shrill, 

The languid echoes wake, 
Which just before were sleeping, calm and still, 
Behind the pine-coned, breezy, whispering hill 
That drinks the cup of morning to its fill, 

Beyond the lazy lake. 

The butterflies have stretched their painted wings 

Upon the breath of dawn, 
And flit from flower to flower like human things ; 
The slaughtered hay its dying perfume flings 
Abroad upon the white- winged gale, which brings 

And strews it o'er the lawn. 

Beneath the moss-grown roof a group prepare 

To siege the smoking board, 
Which fills with grateful incense all the air ; 
But first the reverend sire with frosty hair 
Craves " daily bread " for those assembled there, 

From Him for aye adored. 

Quick follow then the clangings of the steel — 

Above no weltering foe ; 
No timid suppliants for mercy kneel, 



124 



THE FARM-HOUSE 

No vizored foemen with dim vision reel, 
But happy voices grace the morning meal 
With love's sweet overflow. 

And then the cheerful group contrive to share 

The labors of the day ; 
While I , with angling gear and eager air, 
Retreat, like lion to his forest lair, 
To shady woods where winding streams repair, 

And wile the hours away. 




125 



WHERE ROSES GROW 

tEAR Land of Love ! Sweet Land of Rest 
We send onr loved one home to thee : 
Oh ! let her lie upon thy breast, 

Soothed by heaven's matchless minstrelsy. 

The gates of pearl were opened wide 

To let the wanderer in, 
Where peace and rest and joy abide 

With those who dwell therein, — 
And we could fancy that we heard 

The angels from afar 
Shout Welcome ! While a snow-white bird 

Flashed through the gates ajar, 
Adown the pathway of the spheres, — 

And our too eager eyes 
Could scarcely see, through blinding tears, 

This envoy from the skies. 

But messages of love he brought : 

And now we surely know 
Those calm blue eyes are fixed upon 

The One who loved her so. 



126 



WHERE ROSES CROW 

Her tired feet, now tired no more, 
Are strolling by the river 

On whose soft banks the roses grow 
And lilies bloom forever. 




i-7 



A LAST VISIT 

^7]p;HE dear old trees are just the same ; 

N^> The birds — I know them all ; 

The warm winds leap the pine-clad hills 

Responsive to my call, 
And kiss me soft on either cheek 

As oft they did of yore : 
Alas ! no eager footsteps crowd 

The old familiar door. 

The rooms are empty — not a word 

Of welcome greets my ears ; 
Their echoes are a mockery — 

My eyes are filled with tears. 
I cannot make you seem like home : 

So now, old house, farewell ! 
Good-bye, old trees, my childhood's friends 

Good-bye the dear old well ! 



128 




MARGUERITE 



MARGUERITE 

,ELXE Marguerite ; — the thousand nameless graces 
Of all the queens of beauty 
Since time begun — 
The witcheries of all the wondrous faces, 
And voices low and fluty — 
Moulded in one ! 

Just see her waiting there, the peerless creature ! 
The perfect, matchless woman ! 
And watch her face ; — 
Instinct with youth and love is every feature, 
And passionately human 
Is every grace. 

Could we but peer behind the filmy laces 
That guard the sweet enclosure 
Where dear Eove lies, 
A happy bird would smile up in our faces — 
No fear of cold exposure 
Within his eyes. 

No queen of hearts was ever half so gracious : 
The apple-blossoms tremble 
With sheer delight 



'3 1 



MARGUERITE 

As they stoop down and kiss, with lips audacious, 
That exquisite cnsei?tble 
In pink and white. 

The sun's warm fingers, dallying with her tresses, 
Are hopelessly entangled 
In golden strands : 
Nor can he ever set, howe'er time presses, 
Till they are disentangled 
By loving hands : 

Then when the waves of glory round her falling 
Within her vestal chamber 
Are shut from sight, 
If you but listen you may hear him calling 
From off his bed of amber, 

" Sweet L,ove ! Good-night !" 



132 



THE LIFE-vSTREAM 

|^/])NE April morning, when the spring 
kiX Released the mountain rill, 
I heard the baffled winter wind 
Retreat along the hill. 

The father-sun came bending o'er, 

And tenderly caressed 
The laughing prattler, as he drew 

His mountain-mother's breast. 
The rill, when tired of revelling 

Among the fountains full, 
Ran sparkling down the velvet slope 

To sleep — a shady pool. 

But when, as morning dawned again, 

He peeped the margin o'er, 
And saw the beck'ning buttercups 

Fast marching on before, — 
He could not stay ; he turned and kissed 

His sleeping mother, then 
Stole softly 'neath the lintel green 

And rippled down the glen. 



i33 



THE LIFE-STREAM 

As childhood, in uneasy dreams, 

Flies through the green aisles dim 
Of some old crooning forest where 

Lurk monsters fierce and grim, — 
So fled he, as the stealthy roots 

Of gnarled and wrinkled trees 
Came twisting out the loamy bank 

His truant foot to seize. 

In most fantastic windings lost, 

In meadows dewy sweet, 
To catch the jocund birds that flung 

Their music at his feet, — 
He wandered dreamily along 

Till day began to wane, 
And sighed, " Ah, me ! I ne'er shall see 

My mountain home again." 

He hurried down a rocky steep, 

A wild and reckless stream, 
And lay all quivering at its foot, 

At rest — perchance to dream 
Of that long way he needs must wend, 

The victories to be won, 
The blessings waiting at the end 

When all his work was done. 

Day after day he travelled on, — 
Grew broad, and deep, and strong, 



i34 



THE LIFE-STREAM. 

And turned the ponderous wheels of life 

To rhythmic flow of song. 
And while in all the strife of years 

He aimed to bear a part, 
A white swan lay upon his breast, 

Her image in his heart. 

One hazy autumn afternoon 

The traveller neared the goal 
With hurried step and lab'ring breath ; 

He heard the thunder roll, 
But pressed right onward to the brink, 

Nor shunned the dread abyss, — 
His hopes all fixed on realms above, 

One last fond look on this. 

Oh ! transformation wonderful ! 

Above that gulf, at even. 
Hovered a misty form of grace, 

Robed in the hues of heaven ! 



'35 



SPIRIT OF LOVE 10 

fPIRlT of Love ! touch the eyes that are weeping : 
Sweet is her rest who is peacefully sleeping. 
Comfort the sorrowing : Hope never dies, 
Though love-light be banished from love-lighted eyes : 
And sometimes, in the dusk, from the far-brooding dome, 
Soft winds will whisper a message from home. 

Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : 
Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. 

Sorrow and Joy clasp their hands as they wander 

Down to the gateway that leads over yonder ; — 

Joy enters joyfully : Grief turns away — 

Her home is not there where the sun shines for aye. 

So these tear- troubled souls, when they come to the door, 

Will be transfigured, and tears fall no more. 

Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : 
Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. 

Spirit of Love ! heal these hearts that are breaking ; 
Fill them with Heaven, whether sleeping or waking — 
Joy at the noontide and Peace in the night, 
Sweet Hope when the morning floods life with its light : 
And when earth disappears, and the chamber grows dim, 
Take them where Love fills the soul to the brim. 

Lover and Helper ! give them sweet home-rest : 
Pillow their heads on Thy great loving breast. 

136 



THE MAGI AND THE STAR 

;7p)HE sky was overcast, the winds were chill ; 
l ^ Strange lights chased shadows over vale and hill ; 
And Melchior, lone watcher of the night, 
His white beard gleaming in the fitful light, 
Sat silent, prayerful, in his stone-cold tower, 
When, lo, the black clouds parted at the hour 
Of midnight — and afar 
He saw the Star ! 

The sun went down in beauty, but the night 
Grew dark with tempest : not a ray of light 
Touched soothingly old Kaspar's snow-white hair 
The while he knelt, and watched, and waited there 
In his cold cave — with Faith and Hope his dower — 
When, lo, the blade clouds parted at the hour 
Of midnight — and afar 
He sate the Star ! 

Beyond the tumult of the upper Nile 
Balthasar walked, and dreamed of God, the while 
Dark storm-clouds, gathering on the mountain peaks, 
Gave sudden speech, as when Jehovah speaks — 

J 37 



THE MAGI AND THE STAR 

The great hills echoing its wondrous power — 
When, lo, the black clouds parted at the hour 
Of midnight — and afar 
He saw the Star ! 



The sunset-hour was burning in the west : 
Three dusty pilgrims, sadly needing rest, 
Rode down the winding way to Bethlehem 
To find the King — the King of kings to them : 
And, lo, the Star which they had seen before 
Stood flashing: there above His stable door ! 



I 



" Hail to the King !" the happy Wise Men cried : 

" Hail to the King !" the door flew open wide, — 

And there, upon a bed of fragrant hay, 

The infant Jesus with sweet Mary lay, 

Warm wrapped within the whitest, softest fleece — 

The King, the Wonderful, the Prince of Peace. 



And the angels sang, — 

" Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
Peace, good will to men." 



138 



r* iC 




ADOWN THE FLASHING STREAM 

A CHARADE 

O* GlylDE adown the flashing stream 

©4 Serenely in my First ; 

I trail my lines for yellow bream, 

Of fish nor best nor worst ; 
And when I of Sahara dream, 

I quench my dreamy thirst. 

When every breezy summer dell 

Is full of frozen dreams, 
I sometimes deem it passing well 

To mass the sun's warm beams, — 
And in a corner of my cell 

Ah ! how my Second gleams ! 

The axis of the spinning earth 

Extends from pole to pole, 
And has since morning had its birth ; 

Withdraw it, and a hole 
Of might}- length and breadth and girth 

Will need my strengthening Whole. 



141 



SONG OF THE SUMMER WIND 

/nil' 'LL hie away from my native shade, 
(s°£ Over the mountain and through the glade, 
Rustling the leaves with my feathery tread, 
And breathing perfume o'er the violets' bed, — 
Ha, ha ! away, away ! 

I '11 ruffle the face of the crystal lake, 
And laugh at the eddies my pinions make ; 
I '11 perch my foot on the swallow's wing, 
And, sailing along, will gaily sing, — 

Ha, ha ! away, away ! 

I '11 climb the hill on its ladder of trees, 
With a tip of my cap to the lumbering bees, 
While the golden grain, as I pass along, 
Will bend to list to my morning song, — 

Ha, ha ! away, away ! 

I '11 fan the cheek and the burning brow 
Of one dearly loved, but dying now, 
And waft her gentle spirit home 
To a land of rest, no more to roam, — 

Far, far away, away ! 



142 



SONG OF THE SUMMER WIND 

I '11 away with the heart of the barefoot boy, 
The king of the brook and the minnows coy ; 
I '11 kiss the lips of the laughing girls — 
Play hide-and-seek in their tumbled curls, — 
Ha, ha ! away, away ! 

And then how cheerily upward I '11 fly 
To sweep the clouds from the summer sky, 
And bid the moon, in the stilly night, 
Bless loving hearts with her tender light, — 
Ha, ha ! away, away ! 




■43 



SONG 

Dewdrop. — " I 'M a little Dewdrop, 

Round and bright and clear, 
Born among the shadows : 
Morning found me here 
Lying on a rose-leaf, 

Dreaming of the star 
That came from heaven to kiss me — 
Came, oh ! so very far ! 
As for life, 'twill be scarcely a minute : 

The naughty sun drinks us all up ! 
Before we can fairly begin it, 
He gathers us into his cup ! 
Ah me ! all our brightness he drinks from his cup 

Fairy. — " I 'm a little Fairy, 
Diving in a dell, 
Dight of foot, and airy, 

Beautiful as well ; 
But when I am sixteen 
I '11 be a fairy belle : 
Then who will want to kiss me ? 
Can anybody tell ? 
But list to those sweet bells a minute (!!!) 

The fairies in Elf-land at play ! 
I hear their clear .songs from the spinet — 
A signal to hasten away : 
Good-bye ! all we fairies must vanish away ! ' ' 



144 



THE SUNSET BRIDGE 

S$ BREEZY upland, where the winds of all the 
sweet Septembers 
Had stayed their velvet-sandalled feet for rest, 
To watch the sunset fires grow brighter from the latent 
embers 
Their wings had fanned and fashioned in the west 
To molten towers and turrets ;— surely every one remem- 
bers 
The sunset city that he loved the best, 
And hopes sometime to be its humble guest. 

A lone old man, a sad and trembling pilgrim, bent and 
hoary, 
A worn-out relic of the vanished years, 
The last of a long line of sturdy yeomen, whose quaint 
story 
Would weight the listening eyes with listening tears, 
Toiled slowly tip the beaten pathway, till the sunset glory 
Broke full upon his vision, and his fears 
Gave place to music strange to mortal ears. 

He looked beyond the valley and the river— heard the 
singing ; 
L,oved voices silenced long ago were there. 

147 



THE SUNSET BRIDGE 

He saw the silver bells of heaven swinging — heard them 
ringing ; 
Their music melted on the vibrant air. 
He saw the blessed angels beek'ning to him — saw them 
bringing 
The golden wire, and weaving it with care. 
At last the bridge was finished, staunch and fair. 

And while the soft, sweet winds were o'er the sleepy 
upland blowing, 
The dear Lord sent angelic hands to guide 
The timid, footsore pilgrim to the home where he was 

going, 
Dry shod, across the cold, dark, silent tide. 

To-day I see the ghostly waters, bridgeless, ever flowing 
Between us and the near-far other side — 
Unlike the evening when the old man died. 



FOR A BIRTHDAY CALENDAR 

fjlHE way is long, O Friends ! 
%p> But it is sweet, so sweet, 
To wander hand in hand 

Where overhead the swaying branches meet, 
And birds sing joyous songs, by soft winds fanned, 

And velvet grasses kiss your wayworn feet ; 
For just beyond you, where the river bends, 
You '11 find the summer-time that never ends. 




149 



FACES FROM WONDERLAND 11 

V/tHEN Rip and Schneider left the cottage door, 

Jj^ The night was gruesome, and its stormy wrath 
Was pitiless : the twain came back no more. 

The>- turned their footsteps to the mountain path 
Their feet had trodden many a sunny day, 

To find it black with darkness, — every gnome 
A lightning-lighted fiend, that led the way 

To dreamless slumber — ne'er to dreams of home. 

So in this Wonderland : I sometimes think 

These Tritons once were driven from their homes 
(By some tempestuous Gretchen) when in drink, 

And, guided hither by the wily gnomes, 
Were put to sleep — a stony, dreamless sleep — 

A sleep that knows no waking : and we see 
Their sightless eyeballs gazing o'er the deep — 

Unconscious watchers of the restless sea. 

Take not thy way along this tragic shore 

When Night's bat wings enwrap thee, fold on fold, 

For should these sleepers rouse themselves once more, 
The world would say, — This man was overbold ! 



15° 




"A stony, dreamless sleep" — 



O THE CHILDREN 

in HE children— O the children !— 

fe l^ How dark the world and gloomy, 
How wide and cold and roomy, 

To the mother's loving heart, 
Did not the breezes waft her 
The songs and merry laughter 

Of the blessed, blessed children ! 

The children— O the children ! — 
How the sun would pale his glory, 
And the beautiful in story 

Die out of all the lands, 
Could they not hear us calling, 
When the twilight dews are falling, 

Come home, come home, O children ! 

The children — O the children ! — 
Very sweet the sacred pages, 
Floating down through all the ages, 

Telling of the Christ-child born 
Where the mild-eyed oxen ponder, 
With a sort of wistful wonder, 

O'er the Prince of all the children ! 



i53 



O THE CHILDREN 

The children — O the children ! — 
See them blood-red roses strowing 
In the path where Christ is going 

To Jerusalem the doomed : 
See them wave their cool green banners 
Hear them shout their glad hosannas 

To the Saviour of the children ! 



'54 



A TWISTED THING 

0*N a whimsical curve of the grass-grown road, 

(s°f Just over beyond the spruces, 

Lies a moss-embroidered watering-trough, 

Brimful of the limpid juices 
Distilled from the heart of the hill above 

By the gnomes that toil thereunder : 
I can hear the rush of their elfin feet, 

And their echo-gnome-ic thunder. 

This watering-trough is the quaintest thing ! 

'T was carved with an axe or hatchet 
In the crudest way, with the rudest blows — 

I doubt if the world can match it. 
The tooth of time, or the axe, has made 

A notch in the farther corner, 
Where many a barefoot girl has drank, 

And many a Jack)- Horner. 

The dear old log is a twisted thing — 

But it holds the sweetest water 
That ever was drank by beast or bird, 

Or quaffed by son or daughter : 
And yesterday, after forty years, 

I searched until I found it — 



*55 



A TWISTED THING 

A doubtful chance, for the grasses' arms 
Were lovingly clasped around it. 

A face looked up from the mimic sea — 

Alas ! 'twas not the old one ! 
But the yellow frog at the farther end 

Was the very same old bold one, — 
A pop-eyed fiend, who never winked 

When I bent to quaff the nectar ; — 
If it wasn't that same old " crazy quilt," 

It must have been his spectre. 

And Nell, O Nell, do you mind the day 

You knelt down close beside me — 
I never shall forget it, sweet, 

Whatever may betide me — 
And we bent above this tell-tale cup, 

Reflecting untold blisses, 
And saw two faces looking up, 

And kisses chasing kisses ? 

A brown-faced, blue-eyed, barefoot girl — 

The angels — how they love her ! 
A barefoot boy with bleeding feet, 

Her constant, gray-haired lover — 
Will search the paths of heaven some day 

For such a nook as this is, 
And find, perchance, this very pool, 

With all its wealth of kisses. 



156 



BFUE KYI'S 

\LUK eves, laughing merrily ! 
> Why so sparkling ? Verily, 
Two quivers full of bristling arrows art thou, 
Waiting for thy bow ; — 
For thy bow hath many strings, 
And the arrows that it flings 
At random, lay some palpitating heart, now, 
Bleeding, thou must know, 
Laughing blue eyes ! 
Chaffing blue eyes ! 
At thy shoe-tips low. 

Blue eyes ! tender, dutiful, 
Full of love-light, beautiful, 
Why dost thou ever wave thy long brown lashes- 
Wave them in my face ? 
For they reach me in my dreams, 
Interlaced with sunny gleams 
From the queenly sold that seems 
Forever weaving round me love's light meshes — 
Captive to thy grace, 
Truest blue eyes ! 
Bluest blue eyes ! 
Fairest of thv race ! 



*57 



BLUE EYES 

Blue eyes ! once so cheerfully, 
Now, alas ! so tearfully 
Beyond thy narrow prison barriers peering, 
Iyonging for one word, — 
Come I whence the cannons' boom 
Told of many a hero's tomb 
By Chicamauga's crimson tide appearing : 
Deeply thou wert stirred, 
Tearful blue eyes ! 
Fearful blue eyes ! 
Trembling like a bird ! 

Blue eyes ! greet me cheerily, 
Coming back so wearily, 
Thy love-light ever on my proud heart beaming 
As stars beam on the sea : 
Nestle closely to my breast, 
While I gaze, supremely blest, 
Down thy crystal depths in quest 
Of love's young dream — for surely thou art dreaming ! 
Dreaming, too, of me — 
Mistful blue eyes ! 
Wistful blue eyes ! 
Sweet as sweet can be ! 



158 



BRIGHT PASSACONAWAY 

P raIKE some fair castle on the Rhine, 
^f> Or Lurlei of the rock, 
That overlooks the fields of wine, 

The shepherd's homely flock, 
You stand, bright Passaconaway ! 

Upon the cliffs of York. 

We hear the wind about your eaves 

Blow inward from the sea ; 
Sometimes a sea-sad tale it weaves, 

A song without a key, — 
But still, bright Passaconaway ! 

It wrings no tears from thee. 

When past the Nubble's jagged nose 
Sweeps Equinoctial thunder, 

And some great vessel, plunging, goes 
The seething waters under, 

You gaze, calm Passaconaway ! 
With eyes brimful of wonder. 

You stand serene upon the heights 
Where night's soft winds are blowing 



161 



BRIGHT PASS A CON A WA Y 

Your flashing eyes, your hundred lights, 

A burning beacon glowing, 
Invite us, Passaeonaway ! 

To where good cheer is flowing:. 




162 



HElvENE 

gXj jhNDER that snow-white sheet she lies — 
* 7 - Helene my beautiful ! Helene my true ! 
Softly the morning breaks over the skies, 
Softly regretful stars kiss her Adieu ; — 
L,ies she there seeming 
So blissfully dreaming, — 
Fragrant her ripe lips as breath of the morn, — 
No one shall lisp her 
Name even in whisper : 
She 's roaming where fairy-land fancies are born ! 

Clustering clouds of dark, passionate hair 

Frown back the curious beams of the sun : 
Hidden but meagrely, shapely and rare, 

Round, white, soft mysteries wait to be won ; — 

Seemingly bolder, 

One Parian shoulder, 
Purity's self, dims the pillow below — 

While, thrown above her 

Head (who could but love her !) 
A round arm lies white as the shimmering snow ! 

Parting as clouds part when summer winds blow, 
Heavenly wonders unveiling above, — 

161 



HELENE 

So part the gauze-clouds, revealiug below 
Opaline mountains in gardens of love ; — 

Soft undulations, 

Like music's vibrations 
Coursing light-footed the silvery strings, 

Seem like the ocean 

In jubilant motion, 
Rocking its burden of beautiful things ! 

Waking as wake the young birds in their nests, 

Baby Nell opens her wondering eyes — 
Climbs where the lush mountains bear on their crests 
Strawberries ripe as the ruddiest skies ; — 

There, among treasures 

In bountiful measures, 
Roguish-eyed, cherry-lipped, pink-footed Nell 

Drinks from a chalice 

The king in his palace 
Might barter his crown for, and barter it well ! 



164 



THE REAPER 

M*T was so warm that summer day ! 

(5t Yet the hill winds would play with the bearded 

grasses, 
And with miserly glee toss the gleaming masses 
Of billowy grain, in the sun's broad splendor, 
Or touch them with kisses soft and tender, — 
While over the drowsy lea 
Came the Reaper's .song, like a dirge of doom, 
Mantling the bended heads with gloom 
As it swept o'er the rippling sea ; — 
And the Reaper's eyes were dim, 
For at every swing of his circling blade, 
The pitying air bore off to the glade 

A bar of his cradle hymn : 
" In spring we sow — in autumn reap — 
'Tis time for song — no time to weep — 
vSleep, my beloved ! — sleep — sleep — sleep !" 
And the watchful grasses whispered, " Sleep !" 

So when on fields of strife pursuing Night 
Hurls down the west the blood-red orb of light, 
A thousand forms, late sweeping o'er the plain 
Where gleaming sickles shook the crimson rain, 

16.S 



THE REAPER 



Lie scattered, like the tempest-riven leaves — 
Columbia's martyrs, Liberty's dear sheaves : 
And while in silent chambers calm they rest, 
A grateful country folds them to her breast. 




From yonder hillside, where the trees 
Keep watch above the voiceless village, 

And chant their morning melodies 
O'er homes no vandal hand may pillage, 
A hundred sheaves will spring to heaven's wide dome 
When the Great Reaper shouts his Harvest Home ! 



1 66 




"A boy who gives no quarter (but takes one when he can!)' 



THE VERY BIGGEST BOY 

d<jCp)o y° u want to see the biggest, yes, the very big- 

gy§ gest boy — 
A boy that Big 's no name for, his mother's wildest joy ? 
A boy that 's tall 's a flagstaff, as deep as any well, 
As wide as any church door, and merry as a bell ? 

Here 's your Man ! 

" Do you want to see the brightest, cutest little (no, big/) 

boy — 
A boy that 's up to snuff, you bet (but not to maccoboy) ? 
A boy that is so very old, and knows so very much, 
He can tell you how old Holland was taken by the Dutch ? 

Here 's your Man ! 

' ' Do you want to see the strongest boy — a chap to do 

and dare — 
A boy that tracks the rabbits and the foxes to their lair ? 
A boy that whistles, whittles, and swaps jack-knives every 

day — 
Who 's as sweet as any daisy, or as pinks in a bouquet ? 

Here 's your Man ! 

" Do you want to see the bravest boy, who 's always in 

the van — 
A boy who gives no quarter (but takes one when he can ! ) ? 

169 



THE VERY BIGGEST BOY 

Who swims the rivers, hunts the bees, and never tires 

of play — 
Who never growls, or sheds a tear, no matter what you say ? 

Here 's your Man ! 

" Do you want to see a boy with a head that 's full of 

brains ? 
(Just look this way a minute — charge you nothing for 

your pains !) 
A boy that surely knows what 's what from morning 

until night, 
And never fights a battle but he battles for the right ? 

Here 's your Man ! 

" If you wish to see the biggest boy, the brightest, and 

the best ; 
The boy that says his prayers (or ought to!) when he 

goes to rest ; 
The boy that means, when President ('twill not be very 

long ! ) 

To hustle in 'The good time coming,' righting all the 

wrong — 

Here 's your Man !" 




170 



IS IT NOT STRANGE 

HtS it not strange how stealthily To-day 
iJf Slips into Yesterday and glides away ? — 
E'en while you sleep he steals adown the stair, 
Unbolts the ponderous door, and goes— you know not 
where. 

No rumbling of great iron wheels is heard — 
The pulses of the dreamer are not stirred — 
When the long train of flying Yesterdays 
Halts at your midnight door— then speeds its wonted 
ways. 

It leaves a youthful traveller at your gate 
To take the place of him who could not wait ; — 
The young To-day walks in and climbs the tower, 
While yet the brazen hammers forge the spectral hour. 

Morn after morn, with hand close clasped in hand, 
To-day and I stroll through the dewy land, 
And climb the breezy hills, through shaded ways, 
To list the echoes of the train of Yesterdays. 

But, ah ! how much of hope, and love, and light 
Goes with the chain that coils into the night ! 

171 



IS IT NOT STRANGE 

I plead for passage, but I plead in vain — 
I part with each To-day at threshold of the train. 

I 'm stranded on the hills ; — but some fair morn 
The bobolinks will sing among the corn, — 
And happy children in their happy play 
Will say in loving tones, — He left us yesterday. 




172 




: O 



THE RIVER BEAUTIFUL 1 ' 2 

flUENCE sleeps iu thy valley, 
O beautiful stream ! 
O wayward and mystical river ! 

Dreaming a pleasant dream 
As the sunbeams on thy murmuring ripples quiver, 
And talking in his sleep — 
His sleep so sound and deep ! 

Dreaming of maidens roaming 

Thy banks along, 
And of jets of sparkling laughter 

Bursting from waves of song 
That must die away on the shores of the dim Hereafter — 
That peaceful, voiceless sea, 
Kin to eternity ! 

Silence hath myriad voices, 

O gleaming tide ! 
And from thine enchanting valley, 

Radiant in its pride, 
They come to the cliff where the poet stands, and shall he 
Interpret them to thee, 
Under this old pine tree ? 

i75 



THE RIVER BEAUTIFUL 

" Beautiful, beautiful river !" 

The old pine .sighs : 
And the wrinkled, gray old ledges, 

Tears in their mossy eyes, 
Toss back an echo from their jagged edges 
To that lone sentinel 
Guarding the valley well. 

Fondly the tall pine watches 

Thy narrow bed, 
Fearing some morn to miss thee, 

Beautiful silver thread ! 
And ere the glooming he sends his shadow to kiss thee 
A soft and sweet Good-night 
Till morning's rosy light. 

Maples with crimson blushing 

Far down below, 
And distant hillsides climbing, 
Changed to a golden glow, — 
All lend a tongue to that mysterious chiming, 
Deep as the sounding sea, 
Deep as their love for thee ! 

Blending in sweetest music, 

The tinkling feet 
Of rivulets down-rushing 

Dance to thy silver sheet, 
While the rapt sun through golden rifts is flushing 

176 



THE RIVER BEAUTIFUL 

Thy face with heaven's own light : 
O dream too brief, too bright ! 

" Beautiful, beautiful river !" 

The old piue sighs : 
In the silence my heart replieth, — 

" Daughter of earth and skies, 
Farewell ! but at last, when my weary spirit flieth 
Beyond the chiming stars, 
May my eyes unclasp their bars 
To see thy placid waters calmly flowing 
Out from the Burning Throne, and down the valley 
glowing !" 



177 



Y E OLD STONE WALL. 

<U R0CTO ,!liK 14 th 1796— 

XLX Begun y e Stone Wall round y c Garden Plotte 
Below y° Barn — 2 Akers thereabouts " — 
'Tis fairly legible, with here a blot, 
And there a hasty scratch where "plotte" had been 

misspelled, — 
And then — a hundred years the yellow " record " held : 

Thanks to the dry old garret, where the rain 

Could find no loophole ; to the old hair trunk, 
Its brass nails hid beneath the trash of years, 
And dust, and spiders' broidery — a bunk, 
Secure and silent as King Shufu's mighty tomb, 
Wherein the "record" slept amid the unvexed gloom. 

(At the breakfast-table) 

" The very durablest fence in all the world," 

Said Uncle Jerry, " is a good stone wall : 
If built as 't should be, 't lasts f'rever, — 

'N' I do' know any better time 'an the fall 
To start it 'long. These frosty nights make workin' 

days, 
'N' when you put a big stone in its place, it stays." 

178 



YE OLD STONE WALL 

"'Twill look so nice and strong," said Grandma 
Brawn : 
" I like to see the broad-baeked, heavy stones, 
I' the bottom layer, bearing the lesser ones 
So sturdily, with neither frowns nor groans : 
They mind me of the burdens we should gladly bear 
For those we love — and others — here and everywhere." 

" And if the wall is built of great big stones," 

Said blaek-eyed Nell, " 'twill be so nice to climb! 
And when the garden 's full of sweet green corn, 

And flowers, and fruit, in the bright summer-time, 
And vines are running over all the garden wall, 
We '11 play it 's Eden— I '11 be Eve before the fall !" 

" Won't it be jolly fun," said little Ben, 

" When all the cows come swinging home at night, 
To see their noses there above the wall, 
Their soft mouths watering for a juicy bite 
Of all that corn and beans? — /wouldn't be a cow 
For anything ! A r o, sir I — at least, I wouldn't now !" 

"There is no doubt of it," said Gran'ther Brawn, — 

' ' The best of fences is a good stone wall ; 
And there is not a farm in all the town 
With rocks more plenty within easy call : 

Let us be duly thankful ! Now to the field we go — 

A month's hard work before us, e'en till the driving 
snow." 

179 



)!■'■ OLD STONE WALL 







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fit 


^^ 








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r^jiS 


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kk 1 


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And so the old stone wall was built around 

' ' Y c Garden Plotte : " its massive stones to-day 
Are proudly standing there, erect and firm — 
Some lichens mingled with their iron gray — 
While all the blithesome, strong, and willing hearts and 

hands 
That built this deathless wall now dwell in other lands. 



i So 




r, A beautiful Nownman's hand 

Driving seventeen dripping sea-horses" — 



NOMAN'S LAND 

fOMEWHERE there 's a wonderful country 
Do you think it lies over the deep ? 
It may be far off in the mountains ; 

An island, perhaps, fast asleep ; — 
Just fancy ! — perhaps up above us, 

Beyond the bright stars and the blue, 
Great rivers and lakes and green valleys 
Are waiting for me and for you. 

But how can we get there, I wonder ! 

No boatman will take us to-day ; 
No tally-ho leaves for the mountains ; 

Some siren would lead us astray 
If we were to .start off together — 

No compass or chart to our hand — 
In the darkest or sunniest weather, 

To find that invisible land. 

The road to that strangest of countries — 
Do you know that I saw it last night ? 

It may only be travelled when shadows 
Can dance hand in hand with the light. 

I lay on the rocks by the ocean 
And looked out far over the sea, 



183 



NOMAN'S LAND 

When the great Harvest Moon took a notion 
To come up and hob-nob with me. 

In an instant a flashing of silver — 

A few low commands from the Queen — 
A crowd of the nimblest of workmen — 

Wide layers of mystical sheen — 
Great rollers in rapid succession 

Drawn steadily in from the sea 
By the steadiest teams of sea-horses 

And the road was all ready for me. 

Was there ever a vision so splendid ? — 

A beautiful Nowoman's hand 
Driving seventeen dripping sea horses 

Post haste from the far Noman's Laud ! 
She drove to the rocks like a whirlwind — 

She whistled and beckoned to me : 
Oh ! who could withstand a Nowomau ! 

She drove like a flash to the sea. 

What I saw on that nocturnal journey — 

What I heard when we reached Noman's Dand- 
The Nochildreu's silvery laughter 

While sifting the silvery sand ; 
The bonniest Nomaidens romping 

With clouds of the airiest elves, — 
I must never reveal — it 's a secret ! — 

You must go there and see for vourselves ! 



THE JOY-BELLS RING 13 

fHE sunlight seems less bright and clear, 
The dreary winter winds more drear, 
More frequent now the blinding tear, 
Since they are gone. 

The voices of the birds are hushed ; 
The woods, erstwhile with beauty flushed, 
Stand all unrobed — their spirits crushed — 
Since they are gone. 

The music that illumed the air, 
And made the world so blithe and fair, 
Is voiceless now : its home is where 
The loved are gone. 

Two nobler souls ne'er crossed the stream : 
I saw the boatman, in my dream, 
Row gently, as the sunset-gleam 
Bathed them in gold. 

Bright forms intangible were there 
To help them up the landing stair, 
While unseen music filled the air — 
Their welcome home. 



.85 



THE J OY- BELLS RING 

And now they hear the joy-bells ring, 
They hear the " Well done " of the King, 
And haste with flying feet to bring 
Their earth-born gifts. 

Here loving hearts and weary feet 
Walk slowly, sadly down the street 
That leads to where the two worlds meet— 
The river's brim. 

Adown the vista of the years 
I see that pathway paved with tears, 
But know its footsore pilgrims' fears 
Will end in home. 



186 




■■r> 



? 



I ' 



< 1 





| 



\ 



*'** 



ASIvKEP 

sTjEAR tired Mother Earth has gone to sleep : 
>>y5) Walk tiptoe through her chamber lest she waken 
Her children faithful watch above her keep, 
While she with slumber sweet is overtaken. 



Not long ago a thousand tender ferns 

Spread over her their wealth of dew-spun laces, 

And nestled close to her warm heart, where burns 
The fire that kindles Spring-time's sylvan graces. 

And when the blessed Mother longed for rest, 
How soothingly the little slender grasses 

Threw all their soft green arms across her breast : 
No wintry blast shall touch her as it passes ! 




ASLEEP 

The maples watched her with a beaming smile 
When proud October covered them with glory, 

And gladly doffed their royal robes, the while 

With them they made her bed — the old sweet story 

And yesterday all day the longing sky 

Bent lovingly and wistfully above her, 
While soft white kisses — oh, so tenderly ! 

With sweet insistance placed her under cover. 



190 



UNDER THE OLD ELM 

^?ND this is June : — these overhanging boughs 
Invite us — nay, entice us — to a rest 
Upon this soft, green, fragrant mother-breast, 
Where we may watch the sweet home-coming cows 
Wind down the hill, and listen to the vows 
We have no right to hear from that small nest 
That swings above us, while the waning west 
Breathes benedictions on our throbbing brows. 
Here we will dream the twilight hours away 
Beneath this ample firmament of leaves, 
And listen to the whirr of unseen wings 
Within the shadows, while the soft airs play 

The songs our mother sung, that time nor thieves 
Can filch from mem'ry's storehouse — Hark ! she 
sings ! 



i 9 i 



SPRING IS COMING 

|Q5;NOW in the meadow and snow on the hill ; 

Gfs Snow in the woodlands, deep, breathless, and still ; 
Snow on the pond and the iee-covered brook, 
And all the world over, wherever we look ; — 

But voices are calling from over the ridge — 

Let us hasten away across valley and bridge, 

And find what 's in store for our ears and our eyes, 
On the hills, in the woods, ere the glory-light dies. 

Were ever the steps of the west winds so fleet ? 

Were ever soft winds from the far-lands so sweet ? 
Just list to the stories they bring from Lahore, 
Japan, and the islands they '11 visit no more — 

No more till they circle the earth on the wing, 

And come again, o'er the same path, with the Spring : 
vSoft measures they sing, and the whispering pines 
Repeat to our ears their melodious lines. 

But, hark ! on the hill over there in the west 
I hear the hoarse caw of the crows : 't is the best 
The black fellows can do to express their delight, 
For they never could sing much : black cannot be 
white ! 



192 



SPRING IS COMING 

And just now, in that old hollow tree on ahead, 
A drowsy red squirrel turned over in bed, 

And, yawning, said, " Mother, wake up in a wink ! 

For the beautiful Spring-time is coming, I think." 

And if we stand still where the snow is not deep, 
We shall feel the warm ground where the daffodils sleep 
Just trembling and aching to open the door 
And let the imprisoned ones leap to the fore : 
And all the small people that live in the ground 
Have slept their bright eyes out, and long for the sound 
Of the feet of the Spring, as she comes o'er the hills 
To touch the spring-locks and unfetter the rills. 

Did you see me just now put my ear to the bark 

Of that great maple tree ?— Well, inside, in the dark, 

You can hear, step by step, up the ladder, the floods 

Of sweet juices climb sturdily up to the buds : 
And — oh, marvel of Spring-time ! oh, marvel of birth ! — 
Every wonderful germ in the womb of the earth 

Springs to light, clothed in beauty and gladness, to 
sing 

With ineffable joy the swift coming of Spring. 



!93 



THE SPINNING-WHEEL AT REST 

THE DAY'S WORK DONE 

■rf^OjbL,!, day we heard it humming 
(ajf* L,ike softly falling snow, 
And busy feet were coming, 

Going, to and fro, 
One hand upon the whirling wheel, 
One playing with the whirring steel. 

All day we heard it spinning : 

Its song of love and cheer 
Was sweet from the beginning : 

But listen ! you shall hear 
Another voice, as clear and low 
As songs from roses when they blow. 

All day the sweet-voiced spinner 
And her wheel sing soft and low : 

Warm love-light burns within her — 
Her cheeks like roses glow : 

The tea-kettle takes up the song, 

And shakes his cap with laughter long. 



194 



NOTES 

1 The Old Stone Bridge— Page 23— A bridge over the picturesque Ash- 
uelot River, in the town of Gilsum, N. H. 

-The Return — Page 41 — In the early years of the Rebellion, enlistments 
for the Union army were usually made for "three years." 

'■'Speed the Going— Welcome the Coming— Page 51— During the years 
immediately succeeding the Rebellion — "the reconstruction 
period" — the newspapers of the South were full of (perhaps 
pardonable) bitterness; and the "broken words" of the dying 
year were but echoes from their editorial and news columns. 

4 A Portrait from the Sea— Page 76— An exact reproduction of a pebble 
found by the author among hundreds of tons of variegated 
stones on Pebbly Beach, York, Me. 

6 Anniversary Poem — Page 101 — Read at the celebration of the seventy- 
fifth anniversary of Thetford (Vt.) Academy, June 28, 1894. 
"Page 106 — Hiram Orcutt, LL. D., principal of the academy from 
1843 to 1856. He was present on this occasion, at the age of 
eighty, in good health, and made an entertaining after-dinner 
speech at the banquet. 

"'Tit'o Apples— Page it i — The illustrations of this poem are used by the 
kind permission — "Eve," of the Berlin Photographic Co., of 
New York, and "Tell," of E. C. Allen & Co., of Augusta, Me. 

*A Hundred Years Ago — Page 119 — Written for the Centennial Anni- 
versary of the Congregational Church, in Newport, N. H., Oct. 
28, 1879. 
"Page 119 — In June, 1766, eight young men, five having families, 
arrived in Newport for permanent settlement. The next morn- 
ing (Sunday) they met under a pine tree for worship. Since 
that day the Congregationalists have never permitted a Sunday 
to pass without public religious services. 

'95 



A T OTES 

w Spiiit of Love — Page 136 — This hymn is adapted to the tune "Fad- 
ing, still fading" — which will explain certain peculiarities of 
metrical construction. 

11 Faces front Wonderland — Page 150 — All these faces are exact photo- 
graphic reproductions of actual rocks on the magnificent coast 
of York Beach, Me., and all within a few minutes' walk of each 
other. And there are others. It is indeed a Wonderland for 
those who have " eyes to see." 

12 The River Beautiful — Page 175 — "Sugar River," at Newport, N. H., 
the exquisite stream that leads the waters of Sunapee I y ake to 
the Connecticut, a distance of twenty miles ; — so called by the 
early settlers because of the great maple forests on its tribu- 
tary hills. 

i3 T/ie Joy-Bells Ring — Page 185— Mr. and Mrs. William E. Stevens, of 
Portland, Me. — long residents of Concord, N. H. 



196 






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